


Sleeping Somewhere Cold

by Dark_Cyan_Star



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Assassins & Hitmen, Bad Spelling & Grammar, Dark Harry, Dysfunctional Family, Horcrux Riddle, M/M, Malfoy Family, Manipulative Dumbledore, Politics, Pureblood Society, Seer Harry, Underage - Freeform, repost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-17
Updated: 2004-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 13:28:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 187,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5745595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_Cyan_Star/pseuds/Dark_Cyan_Star
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>REPOST: SLASH LV/HP: AU: </p><p>Lucius has twin boys. Voldemort is asking for his servants’ firstborn child. Thinking it's an honor; Lucius gives Voldemort the healthy child, Draco, who happens to be the younger twin. Harry grows up the black sheep of the Malfoy family and befriends Mudbloods and the boy-who-lived, Neville. Eventually, he ends up being disowned from the Malfoy family. Things spiral out of control when Voldemort finds out Harry is the firstborn. He'll stop at nothing to get Harry on his side. After all, the ritual Voldemort wants to use will not work without Harry. For the Dark Lord wants to eat off the children's magic once they are of age.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Without a Soul

**Author's Note:**

> !  
> .  
>  WARNING: REPOST. Work not edited or altered in anyway. Story /will/ contain typos, grammar errors, and major facepalm moments. If I had a month of R&R, I may feel inclined to go back and edit this story.

**_ Sleeping Somewhere Cold _ ** **  
Chapter One: Without A Soul **

Eerie shadows danced across the room as Narcissa Malfoy screamed. Her porcelain skin revealed a layer of shimmering sweat beaded across her forehead. Lungs burning, she screamed once again. "One more push, My Lady." The Healer looked uncertainly up at the shuddering woman. Lucius Malfoy was pacing back and forth, keeping his mercury eyes on the unfolding scene. His eyes were locked on his wife, surveying and studying to make sure her health was not failing.

Outside, he knew his Lord stood. The Dark Lord stood, waiting to mark their firstborn child. It was an honor. Lucius was proud to have such a strong wizard take an interest on his son. Unfortunately, he wasn't the first Death Eater to have his son marked. Goyle, Crabbe, and Nott already had their sons marked as did Parkinson's daughter. Their son was the youngest out of the lot, but he was proud to be a father so soon.

"Come now, Cissy." Lucius was anxious, but his pacing would most definitely make Narcissa uptight. "You can do it, my sweet." His jewel clad hand brushed back her white hair, smiling at her, trying to give her comfort. What else could he possibly do?

"A boy, My Lady." Lucius turned his head around. He hadn't heard any cries.

Mercury eyes watched as the Healer stood up, cradling a bloody newborn. Lucius' smile froze and faltered. The baby had midnight black hair and it was incredibly small. "Is…" he paused, throwing Narcissa a cautious look. "Is he alive?" Narcissa gave a sob at the query. But her face contorted in pain again, giving a breathless scream.

"Yes, he's very healthy." The man paused, eyes wide as he looked at Narcissa. "There is another child." The Healer passed the silent babe over to his assistant, who in return, cleaned the child. Lucius gave a swallow, his lips turning downward.

"Another?" he mouthed incredulous to the Healer, who had taken position near Narcissa's open legs. Twins were unheard of in the dark pureblood world. It was pathetically common. The Weasleys had twins.

No matter. He would raise them accordingly.

Narcissa threw her head back against the headboard and screamed. And with her, a child's screams joined in harmony. Lucius squeezed her hand, watching as she sagged in exhaustion. The Healer stood up once again with another precious bundle. Pride swept through Lucius as he noticed this child was screaming and possessed blonde hair. The youngest twin was the larger, a more healthy weight. "You did fabulous, my dear." Lucius cooed and she smiled tiredly up at him.

"Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, you gave birth to two beautiful boys." The Healer placed the two bundles upon Narcissa's chest.

The two stared down at the boys, noticing the differences. "He's defiantly a Black," Narcissa tried to lighten the atmosphere, motioning toward the firstborn. The small baby opened its eyes, showing shocking green eyes.

"Narcissa," Lucius sneered, coming to a shocking conclusion. She couldn't have possibly...

The woman gave a small laugh. "Regulus had green eyes, Lucius. And Bella used to have dark green before they turned black." Her blue eyes studied the silent baby. "His name should be Harrison Regulus Malfoy."

"But I thought we agreed on-,"

"This one here can be Draco Lucius Malfoy." The blonde baby cried, his wet mercury eyes staring up at his father. Lucius reached down to run his finger down the screaming child's face.

Before Lucius could turn, he felt the Dark Lord's presence silently enter the room. The man's power was suffocating, causing Draco to cry harder. Harrison, on the other hand, blinked stupidly up at the ceiling. "Lucius? Are you ready? Which is the firstborn?" Voldemort's voice was a soft hiss, caressing every occupant in the room into an uncomfortable calm.

Lucius hesitated for a long moment. It was an honor. Did it really matter if one was seconds older? He wanted his Lord to have the healthy baby, he couldn't give the Dark Lord a fragile wizard. "My Lord," Lucius started, picking up Draco. Narcissa's eyes widened in slight bemusement but she didn't dare speak out. She knew he was to give the Dark Lord the first child. But she was smart enough not to cause attention. "May I present you, Draco Lucius Malfoy. My firstborn heir and your loyal follower."

He cradled the blonde baby to his chest; turning to the Dark Lord. The man appeared young in appearance and incredibly handsome. But Lucius wasn't a fool. Lord Voldemort was the most powerful and intoxicating wizard he had ever had the pleasure of meeting, but also the most dangerous.

The Dark Lord gave a sinister smile as he held out his hands for Draco. "Precious," crimson eyes danced around Lucius' shoulder at the other child. "Twins, Lucius?" Thick white teeth flashed humorlessly.

Lucius remained quiet, knowing when to speak and when to remain silent. He watched as Draco quieted down, probably due to the man's magic. The Dark Lord unrolled the blanket slightly, revealing Draco's pink ankle. Placing a long, pale finger on Draco's skin, the Dark Lord murmured quietly, successfully branding Draco's skin with a serpent. It was small and barely noticeable, but beautiful in its own right.

"Once they all become of age," Voldemort started, dropping Draco's ankle. "We will be more powerful than imaginable."

His red eyes drilled into Lucius' gleeful ones.

Lucius bowed his head. "Thank you, My Lord."

** -SSC- **

Harrison sighed, shutting his book. "Hurry up, Harrison." Draco slammed his fists against his door. "The Dark Lord will be here shortly." The six year old growled low in his throat and stood up. The robes his mother had him wear were tight and constricting, he could barely move. All he wanted to do was go outside and play or read a book.

Instead he had to be out of place, yet again.

He left his room, watching as Draco hurried in front of him. Theodore Nott, Gregory Goyle, Vincent Crabbe, and Pansy Parkinson were here with their parents. Whenever they gathered together, the children always left him out of their games. They laughed at him and teased him for being different. His eyes were bright green, his hair was black, and he was small for his age…a complete opposite of any Malfoy.

His presence was required out of respect of the Dark Lord. Harry didn't exactly know what it meant to be the Dark Lord but the man always fascinated him. His goal was always to say 'hi' to the Dark Lord and then slither off to his rooms like he always did.

His father gave him a disproving glare as he stumbled off the bottom stair and almost fell on his arse. The Dark Lord was already here, his robes deep black and silver. The man always smelt good to Harry. A deep flower, perhaps a lilac. When he asked his father about it, Lucius had grimaced down at him and told him the Dark Lord did not smell like any flower. And then Harry was ordered to watch his tongue.

Harry stepped in line with the rest of the children, Draco elbowing him in the stomach, and bowed his head for the Dark Lord. "Hello My Lord." He chorused in unison with the rest of the children.

"Hello children," Harry shivered. His voice always sounded so... pleasing.

Without approval, his eyes peeked up at the Dark Lord. Crimson eyes locked with his own and Harry hurriedly looked back down with a blush, swearing the man gave him a wink.

He listened as the adults swept past them, entering the sitting room. Automatically, the children all ran toward the sitting room's far corner, circling around each other, whispering. They all sent him a glare and continued on giggling and laughing with one another.

Harry shrugged and turned his heel to escape them. His fantasy book upstairs had such vibrant colored pictures. "Harrison," his name was called. He knew that voice and froze on the first step. The Dark Lord never spoke to him. Why now? "Come sit with us." Bright green eyes met crimson. The Dark Lord had a small smile upon his face as the parents looked at him intensely.

"Come on," The Dark Lord reassured, sounding slightly impatient.

"Harrison," Lucius warned darkly when he noticed his son not crawling over to their Lord.

"Hush Lucius," the red eyed man threatened his father softly.

Harry took a deep breath and slowly made his way over, his head down. He stopped near the silver and black robes, awaiting his orders. Long and thin fingers placed themselves on his shoulders. One of the index fingers crawled over and lifted his chin. Harry met the Dark Lord's amused stare. "Why aren't you with your _friends_?" The Dark Lord hissed out the word 'friends' and Harry giggled.

Looking into those eyes, he realized his favorite color was crimson. "They aren't my friends." He couldn't help a sad note come through.

The Dark Lord smiled and moved his hands to clutch at his waist. "Well then, you don't need friends. You may sit with me." The man picked him up and allowed him to sit on his lap. Harry was startled and stiff. Looking over to his parents, he wondered at their approval. From their expressions, Harry couldn't distinguish what they were feeling. "Do you have a problem with this, Lucius?"

His father dipped down his head, startled. "No, My Lord."

The Dark Lord's arms cradled him against his chest and Harry eventually relaxed. The adults started talking about grown up things and Harry eventually lulled to sleep. The last thing he heard before falling asleep was the name 'Longbottom'.

_ The Dark Lord walked over the dead body of a man, his wand in hand. The stairs seemed to beckon him as he climbed up, grinning. Harry followed the lilac man at his heels, frowning. He had these dreams occasionally. They always turned out true. Like one time, he had a dream that his mother would get him a new set of robes and it turned true the next day. _

_ But he had never had a dream about his lilac man. _

_ Harry flinched as the Dark Lord blasted a door down, sending splinters every direction. A woman was clutching a pudgy child around his age to her chest, crying. Her blue eyes glanced up and set the child down on the bed, standing in front of him. _

" _Please, not Neville."_

" _Stand aside, Longbottom." Harry's eyes widened. He remembered the adults talking about going to the Longbottom's house. Was this them? He looked at the boy, smiling at him, but he didn't see Harry._

" _Please, kill me instead-,"_

" _Stand aside, woman."_

" _Spare Neville-,"_

"Avada Kedavra." _Harry watched a green light hit the woman, causing her to fall heavily to the floor. His bottom lip trembled as she didn't move. It wasn't until Harry watched the Dark Lord advance on Neville that he knew what he was doing._

" _Please, My Lord, don't do this." He pleaded. But lilac man didn't hear him._

" _You're the one?" Voldemort sneered down at the crying child. "Rather pathetic," the man pointed his wand at the babe._ "Avada Kedavra." _Harry screamed, watching as the light struck the boy in the forehead and bounce back to the Dark Lord. Harry tumbled on his arse, watching as the lilac man disappeared, seemingly blown up. Looking back at the boy, he saw Neville still alive, crying._

"Harrison!" Harry jerked awake, gasping for air. "Get off the Dark Lord," Lucius growled, grabbing Harry around the waist and pulling him off the lilac man. Harry whirled around, watching as the Dark Lord stood up.

Jerking out of his father's hold, Harry tugged at the man's robes. "Don't go to Longbottom's house." The Dark Lord's eyes widened, but only slightly. "Please, don't go. You'll get blown up."

Crimson eyes stared down at Harry. And then chuckled, causing the rest of the adults to chuckle warily. "Very amusing child, Lucius. Alas, I must get going." Harry stood shell shocked, watching the man leave. Lilac man didn't believe him…

Before the Dark Lord left, his eyes studied Harry once more.

With his eyes, Harry tried to plead with him not to go, but Voldemort turned to leave.

Late that night, the world would celebrate the death of the powerful Lord Voldemort and hail the boy-who-lived, Neville Longbottom.

** -SSC- **

Draco got a handshake from their father and Harry got a cold stare and a nod as a farewell. Shrugging off the stare, Harry dragged his trunk to the Hogwarts Express. Even if his parents treated him coldly, his father especially, they always provided him with top of the line material. Nothing less for a Malfoy. Rather pathetic if Harry thought so.

This would be his first year of Hogwarts. He was rather excited to learn all about the wizarding world. Lucius had always taught Draco private lessons but never showed an interest in teaching Harry anything more than expected.

"Please," Draco whispered to him. "Sit somewhere _far_ away. I wouldn't want to be seen with the likes of you." He bumped shoulders with Harry and left him in the middle of the train. It wasn't as if Harry wanted to go with Draco to meet up with his brute friends. They were all stuck up and seemed to have a permanent chip on their shoulder. He was afraid their heads would snap off from being tipped far back all the time.

Biting his lip, in an unMalfoy gesture, Harry entered a compartment. A girl with bushy hair and a boy with chocolate brown hair sat together, murmuring polite words to one another.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" Harry asked eloquently. The girl turned to look at him and turned pink.

"S-sure." She stuttered and seemed to be angry with herself for doing so. "Neville and I were just introducing each other." She paused as Harry sat down on the seat, moving a rather large toad. "I'm Hermione Granger and this is Neville Longbottom."

Harry froze, staring off into space. Granger. That was a mudblood name.

Lucius…

For as long as Harry could remember, he had tried to gain his father's favor. An unspoken vow seemed to be agreed upon between Harry and his parents. They treated him like any other pureblood child. Draco had a special bond with his mother and father, one that Harry didn't share. But Harry looked upon their bond in envy. He wanted his parents to be proud of him.

Something was different from he and Draco. For some reason, his father liked Draco far more. Was it because of Draco's blonde hair and grey eyes? Or was it something entirely different? He had a hunch it was the latter. Was Draco more powerful than him?

Looking at Granger and the boy-who-lived, he had an idea. What if he befriended the boy-who-lived and a few members of the light side?

That would sure gain his father's respect and notice.

Right?

"I'm Harrison Malfoy, but you can call me Harry." He shook her hand and turned to the sour looking Longbottom.

"A-a Malfoy?" The boy looked at him up and down, a nervous flutter in his eyes. "You don't look a thing like a Malfoy." Despite his words, he reached across and shook Harry's hand. "It's nice to meet you."

Harry sat back and studied Longbottom. The boy seemed nervous and not confident in the least. Opposite of what Harry thought he would be. He knew the boy lived with his grandmother ever since his parents died in the attack.

They sat back and enjoyed the rest of the ride to Hogwarts. A few kids entered, staring in awe at Longbottom. The boy always seemed to hunch his shoulders and look away. It was odd for Harry to interact with children his own age. He couldn't remember the last time he enjoyed someone else's presence. He tried to tell himself that he wasn't having _a lot_ of fun. After all, this was supposed to be an act…

** -SSC- **

"Malfoy, Draco." Harry watched as his brother slammed his shoulder with his own as he made his way up to the stool. The boy's grey eyes locked with his in a glare as the hat dropped on his head.

"SLYTHERIN!" Harry huffed. All of Draco's friends went in Slytherin also. He felt a pang of something heavy in his chest. Every Malfoy went in Slytherin but did he _really_ want to end up in the same room for the next seven years? They would make life hell for him. Hermione and Neville both went to Gryffindor, giving him last minute waves. He could see in Neville's eyes that he knew Harry would go to Slytherin.

"Malfoy, Harrison." Whispers spread through the hall, almost as bad as Neville's turn. He heard a few comments about how small he was and how black his hair was. It didn't matter. The hat sat past his eyes, blocking out curious lookers.

" _Ah, another Malfoy I see. Well better be_ S-,"

"No please. Not Slytherin." Harry whispered, pleadingly. "Gryffindor, please."

The hat paused for a long moment. _"Child, you would do well only in Slytherin. That is your character. Nothing you can do, even ask nicely, will make me change my decision._ SLYTHERIN!" Harry deflated, a sneer deepening his lips. Frustrated tears sprang to his eyes and he stomped over toward the table applauding politely.

Silver and emerald appeared on the trimming of his robes and a serpent badge placed itself on his chest. The older students looked proud to have another Malfoy but the first years were sniggering, narrowing their eyes at him.

Harry sat down at the end of the table, facing forward, tunnel vision. Unseeingly, he watched the rest of the sorting. A black boy joined him at the end but Harry paid him no heed. He watched the almighty Dumbledore stand up.

Perking up slightly, he could smell the man's magic. Never before had he smelt such powerful magic on anyone besides his lilac man, Voldemort. Harry shut his eyes, not listening to Dumbledore's speech. To this day, he still remembered Voldemort taking him on his lap and making him feel as if he _belonged._ His parents never felt the need to shower him with attention like Voldemort had that one day.

The only one who actually saw him was dead.

But he would return. As much as Harry would like to believe Voldemort returning as the same man, he knew that probably wouldn't be the case. Voldemort would be harsher and colder.

But Dumbledore… the Headmaster smelt like spring rain. His father complained about Dumbledore, but at the moment, Harry saw no flaws in the old man. Past his prime, but it certainly didn't smell like it. Through interested eyes, he watched Dumbledore wave his hands and food magically appeared.

Ignoring his brother to his right, he spotted Neville whispering to Hermione and glancing in his direction. He couldn't distinguish what they were feeling, but he had a hunch it wasn't anything positive.

"I'm Blaise Zabini by the way." The black boy across from his shot out a hand. "I've heard a lot about you, Harrison." Becoming intrigued, Harry shook the boy's hand.

"You can call me Harry." He wanted to ask how Blaise heard so much about him, considering Lucius never talked about him with other people. He knew all about Blaise and his mother though. He smirked.

Perhaps things wouldn't turn out all too bad in Slytherin.

** -SSC- **

Nodding along with Minerva, Albus watched the young Malfoy. He was rather startled learning of another Malfoy. He'd heard plenty about Draco from Severus but he never mentioned a Harrison. It was rather surprising seeing a Malfoy with black hair and startling green eyes. Sadly, he remembered Lily Potter's eyes. She and her husband were killed in battle before they could conceive a child together.

But Harrison's appearance was not the only thing that caught Dumbledore's attention. The boy moved with such grace unheard of in a child so young. It wouldn't be complete if he hadn't seen young Harrison mouth the words 'not Slytherin' and the fact he reeked of lilacs.

Lilacs, the same scent as Voldemort. Only powerful witches and wizards could smell another's power. Some average and lesser wizards did not even _have_ a scent. Neville Longbottom had no scent and most of the children at Hogwarts didn't even have one. But this young child did…and it was the same scent as the Dark Lord's. Why is that? It nagged the back of his mind. He had heard of this issue before, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what it meant.

The Slytherins moved away from Harrison, including his brother, Draco.

Fascinating.

Harrison Malfoy was indefinitely a pupil to watch over.

But for now…those lemon pastries looked inviting.


	2. Out on Your Own

** Chapter Two: Out on Your Own **

Harry nursed the broken skin on his elbow. It was another prank they pulled on him. _'Them'_ meaning his roommates. Every morning they had something new to experiment with and he was their test subject. Whether it was hiding his things, making him late, hurting him, anything they could do- they did it. "Stupid…" Harry whispered to himself, tearing up like a furious child.

He already wrote to his mother, asking if she could talk to Draco about his dangerous pranks he pulls. She had written back, reassuring him that she talked to Draco. It didn't show. And then, as his last resort, he asked Lucius, his father. That was around a week ago. His father had coldly commanded him to shape up and stop sniveling. After all, Slytherins don't whine to their parents.

Three weeks. Three weeks of hell. He hadn't talked to Neville or Hermione. His appetite was lost, causing his robes to fall off him like a hanger. And he hadn't been getting much sleep. The only thing going good for him right now was the professors. They seemed to have a soft spot for him and all his homework was above standards. In fact, he was ranked the highest in his year. Much to his brother's delight… and Harry hadn't even gotten private lessons this summer like his brother did.

" _Harrison."_

He blinked and looked around his dorm room. No one was in there.

_ Or appeared. _ "Oi, come off it Draco." He snapped, glaring into the shadows. "It's funny, I get it. Stop bothering me or people will think you have a crush on me." Grimacing deeply, he wiped away the tear on his cheek and at the blood. A drop of blood stained his parchment. It was his homework for potions.

" _Cheer up, child."_ He caught a whiff of lilacs and stood up abruptly, knocking over his text book in the process.

"Voldemort?" Harry whispered brokenly, hearing a quiet chuckle. No matter how deep in the shadows he looked, he would never see Voldemort.

Brushing a piece of midnight black hair from his face, he glanced in the mirror. He looked pitiful in his own eyes. His aristocratic features and sharp angles were stunning, but the dull shine in his eyes made him look deplorable.

His homework was already done; he might as well get off his arse and mingle. Even Blaise had made friends with a few Ravenclaws, leaving him by his lonesome.

Cautiously opening the door, Harry ventured into the Common Room, ignoring the curious gazes. As he walked out the moving wall, he decided to make his way to the library. After all, if Hermione were anywhere besides the Gryffindor Common Room, she was surely in the library, studying to pass him. "Well, if it isn't the black sheep." Draco sneered, coming down the dungeon with his usual posse behind him.

Harry studied them. It was the usual five. Draco, Pansy, Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle. He was surprised Pansy hadn't convinced the rest of the girls to join their group, but the more he thought of it, Pansy acted high and mighty around the females as well. What made these five so special?

"And I suggest you put away your wands away before you receive a black mark." Professor Snape seemingly appeared out of no where as soon as the five Slytherins took out their wands.

"B-but _s-sir_ ," Nott stuttered, confused.

"No buts, Nott." Snape mocked, sneering. "Unless you want detention with Professor Quirrell in eloquent lessons and behavior, I suggest you put your wand down. Now." The man's eyebrows rose expectantly. Harry felt slightly giddy. Having Professor Snape at your back was sure better than having him sneering down your neck.

"Professor, you can't seriously-," Draco started. After all, Severus Snape _was_ his godfather.

"Detention with Professor Quirrell; Ms. Parkinson and you four; Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, Malfoy... Draco." Black eyes sought him. "I will be informing Quirrell about this. He will be teaching you the proper way to speak to your housemates."

"But-," Draco started again, pink in his pale face.

"Twenty points from each of you." Snape crossed his arms over his chest. "Would you like to continue and impress me further with your lack of articulacy? Or perhaps you would like to earn yourself another detention with Filch?" The five blinked stupidly up at Snape. "Be gone." The potions master hissed, baring his yellow teeth.

They scattered, grumbling to one another.

Harry shyly glanced up at the looming Snape. "Thank you, sir." He was about to brush past the man until a hand grasped his robes, tugging him back. Rather shockingly, Snape crouched down, becoming the same height as himself. One hand grabbed his chin, forcing his stare while the other gripped his upper arm.

"You will come to me if they give you anymore trouble, do you understand me?" Harry stared. "It doesn't matter if it's small or not intentional, you may come to me, Harrison. I am here for you if you so need it. That's what Heads of Houses do for their students."

"But I thought you were Draco's godfather, why did you…" Harry trailed off, not understanding why Snape easily went against Draco.

"I could be the brat's mother and I would still give him detention, Harrison." Professor Snape paused, tightening his hold. "I would like to congratulate you on the essay you handed in yesterday, Mr. Malfoy. The key elements you pointed out were far beyond your level, I applaud you." Leaning closer, Harry studied the man's face.

Something shadowed the potion master's face. But his black eyes were intense and they captured Harry's attention. "As long as you keep up your studies and push yourself magically, you won't need to 'fit in'. People will be following at your heels and _beg_ you to pay attention to them. Look at Dumbledore. You think he fit in, eating lemon drops at all times?" Harry cracked a smile, warming to the potions master. With a final pat, Snape stood up and pushed past Harry, sending a whiff of burning wood toward Harry's smelling senses.

Watching Snape's retreating back, Harry drank in his last words. The man seemed to be speaking from experience. Could it be that Snape hadn't fit in either? But what he said…it made perfect sense to Harry. As long as he kept up his studies, he didn't need to worry about fitting in with the Slytherins.

But Gryffindors were another matter.

** -SSC- **

"…has to be Snape…" Hermione whispered but shut up as soon as she saw Harry. Between her, Neville, and Ron Weasley, a thick volume was opened toward the middle.

She blushed as soon as her eyes laid on him. Looking down at her clasped hands, she nervously shut the large book. Harry fiddled with the book bag strap over his shoulder, heavy with books. He had a few finishing touches to do on his Transfiguration essay. Previously, he was sitting in the dark corner of the library until he spotted Hermione and Neville enter.

"Hello Harrison," Neville spoke up, biting his bottom lip in a nervous gesture. The red head narrowed his eyes. Harry wondered if Weasley could see past his heavy eyelids spiked with fiery red lashes.

"Malfoy," Ron hissed, spit staining the parchment around him.

"Weasley," Harry nodded politely. He knew all about the Weasley's from his father and brother. Although he found the 'little' family quarrel amusing, he also thought it was rather childish. "Working on your Transfiguration essay?" His green eyes landed on the boy's abandoned parchment. It had a few sentences on it, some crossed out and other words looked rather messy.

Ron's eyes glanced down at the paper and a frown settled across his lips. "Trying to. What's it to you, Malfoy?"

Harry shrugged and invited himself to sit down across the table. "I was just finishing up my essay, did you need any help?" He wasn't looking at Ron, but out of the corner of his eye, he watched the boy turn pale and open his mouth, flabbergasted. "The theory of Transfiguration is so complex. There is human transfiguration, animal transfiguration, and of course objects…stray things like buttons and tables."

Hermione perked up, taking out her quill and writing a few things down on her parchment. "There are laws and rules for each type of category. First off, human transfiguration may be considered dark. Not necessarily illegal, but dark nonetheless. Without the subject's approval, the transfiguration may be permanent or it may not work at all. It depends on your intention. With dark intentions, you may do the transfiguration on them, turning your enemy into an animal or object. Lourival Transfiguration is the darkest transfiguration you can do. It turns a human into-,"

"How do you know so much about this? Did your _papa_ teach you?" Ron mocked, despite the fact he had been hurrying to write this down. His white fingers were stained with ink and his nose had an ink smudge. "You're talking about Dark Arts, I'm sure he had something to do with this."

"Ronald," Hermione seethed, narrowing her eyes.

"No, its ok Hermione." Harry started, smirking over at the mess Weasley made. "My father never taught me anything like he did Draco. Actually, Professor McGonagal told us this in class last Monday. I suppose you weren't paying attention?" Ron flushed. "As far as you comparing me to my brother _and_ my father, should I compare you to Percy? Are you like him? Or should I compare you to your great uncle Gregory who turned-,"

"No, I get it." Ron interrupted before Harry could finish, an embarrassed blush on his face. "After all, I've seen the way the Slytherins hate you. I guess you can't be all that bad." Despite the sharp pain at those words, Harry gave a soft smile. Of course the other Hogwarts students would discover the way the Slytherins were treating him.

"Now that we have that settled," Hermione started, glaring at Ron who had the decency to blush again. "Can you tell us more about the Lourival Transfiguration?"

Taking out his own essay, Harry was glad to give the help, despite the heavy weight in his chest.

** -SSC- **

"…co-compliment y-your roo-room mates." Draco sneered deeply at the DADA professor. The fool was actually writing down steps on how to treat your house mates on the black board. How ridiculous was this? His father would hear about _this_.

It all had to do with his brother. Draco rolled his eyes upward. Brother… that sounded so…affectionate. Harrison was no brother of his. Perhaps he would call the boy his dimwitted twin. After all, they didn't look a thing alike. All through the school year, he had to deal with people commenting on how handsome his brother was. Did they ever compliment _him_?

Huffing out a breath, Draco clutched his jaw. Appearances didn't matter. Not when he was marked by the most powerful wizard in history. Subconsciously, he could feel the mark on his ankle, a burning brand of how important he was. And he was _very_ important. That was what his father said.

As was Goyle, Nott, Crabbe, and Parkinson. But he was the leader of the significant five. He snapped his fingers and they cowered. That's how it should be. After all, Lord Voldemort had told his father that he was the most important figure out of the others. He would go far in life. He didn't know much about what would happen once he reached of age, but his father said something about sharing the Dark Lord's power and using it to destroy mudbloods.

He could hardly wait until the Dark Lord came back to power. And it would be soon. After all, his father was working hard in the Ministry _and_ trying to come up with a way to help their Lord arise again. When Draco reached his magic maturity, the ritual would start. His chest gave a tightening squeeze in anticipation.

He was _so_ important.

Harrison, his dimwitted twin, couldn't use his pretty looks or high grades in the future. The Dark Lord looked for the significant five, not stupid twins. The only thing his twin would be good for was being a whore. Although…Draco considered… Lucius had told him the Dark Lord was very handsome and occasionally took his loyal followers to bed. His father didn't outright say it, but from the man's wistful expression, Draco assumed the Dark Lord was great in bed.

Maybe _he_ wanted to please the Lord.

No, Harrison wouldn't be the Dark Lord's whore. The only place for Harrison was a head pike. Draco would be the one to slice off his head and place it on display for his Lord.

Maybe father would behead Harrison. After all, the fool twin was befriending Gryffindors for Merlin's sake. Lucius wasn't going to be pleased.

"Isn't that right, Mr. Malfoy?" Draco startled out of his thoughts as Professor Quirrell addressed him. He was so startled and the others around him were unobservant to notice the man didn't stutter.

** -SSC- **

Harry tipped back his head and laughed. Neville snorted in laughter, clutching his stomach as he caught sight of Ron without eyebrows. Hermione's lips even twitched as she continued digging through her bag. "Shut up," Ron muttered darkly. It happened in potions class. Even from across the room, Harry winced when the red head added too many diced wings. "Madame Promfrey said they'd grow back in no time."

"She told you that so you wouldn't worry. Truth is, they'll stay like that forever." Neville pointed out and Harry's smile on his lips faltered. It was funny, but it wasn't _that_ amusing.

He occupied himself with his homework. A part of him wanted to try to fit in with these three Gryffindors and another, much stronger side of him, wanted to run far away- screaming. Harry unconsciously wrote down an answer as he remembered what Professor Snape said to him. The man said it didn't matter that he didn't fit in. All that mattered was school work.

As much as he wanted to believe those words, he was young, and his childhood wasn't exactly happy. He wanted to belong in this world. He couldn't belong with his family or the Slytherin house but maybe he could find his childish virtue he had been looking for with the Gryffindors. He blamed his upbringing for his dimwitted thinking.

The future seemed so cloudy and uncertain. He just figured he could enjoy this Gryffindor innocence until it lasted.

"Harrison," someone drawled. Without glancing over, Harry knew it was Draco. "What do you think your doing?"

Tilting his head to the side, the cool wind of December played with his hair. It would be Christmas break shortly and his mother asked for his presence during the holidays. His father could care a less. The only thing Lucius had talked to him about was his grades. Surprisingly, his father was proud of him. For the first time Harry could remember, Lucius actually _cared_ about something in his life.

And as much as he wanted to scoff and turn his back on his father, any slice of affection from the man was greedily eaten up. He was such a bloody idiot.

"Whatever do you mean, Draco?" He looked up at the three Gryffindors. They were silent, watching the confrontation between brothers. It was a usual occurrence and they were used to it.

Looking back, Harry remembered how rocky it was to befriend these three Gryffindors. He didn't especially like Ron but Hermione and Neville did. After many calm arguments, Ron finally accepted that Harry wasn't Draco. Hermione still had a crush on him and he wasn't blind to the fact that other girls looked his way…and disturbingly, so did other boys. He had nothing against gays, he just wasn't one himself.

Nonetheless, their friendship had come far. They could be themselves around him and he led them to believe he was himself as well. The only thing he was distressed about was their secrecy. They didn't trust him. Sometimes he caught them whispering among themselves and then shutting up abruptly when he came in the room.

"Why are you associating with these…" here Draco trailed off, a heavy sneer on his face. "These _misfits_ ; the mudblood, the chubby hero, and the poor, pathetic, pureblood…disgusting." Ron turned purple, his teeth bared. "Father won't be happy to know you're socializing with them. He already told you _once_."

"Why don't you leave us alone and stick your nose up some other arse? I'm sure father would be pleased to know he passed on his brown nosing to his son. I, on the other hand, don't find it very flattering." He turned back to his homework, well aware that Ron was chuckling.

Draco's grey eyes narrowed. "You dare talk about father that way?" Spittle stained his cheek. "You'll be sorry."

Harry watched his twin march off, his cronies at his back. Merlin, they were pathetic. "Good one, Harry." Ron clapped his back. He flashed him a bright smile. "What are you doing for the Holidays?"

Green eyes glanced up. "I'm spending it with my family." He made a face. "What about you lot?"

The trio glanced at each other. "Well…" Neville started off. "Gran isn't going to be home this Christmas, so I'm staying here."

Hermione nervously played with her quill. "And Ron and I agreed we'd stay to give Neville company." Her brown eyes were frightful, almost if she were waiting for Harry to blow up at her because they hadn't told him.

It did hurt a little. They always left him out of the loop. But he was a Malfoy, he couldn't show his hurt.

Giving them a cool nod, Harry dipped his quill in the ink pot. "I'm sure you'll have fun together."

A hand landed on his arm and he looked up at Neville. He couldn't help but to glance at the lightening bolt scar on his forehead. Sometimes, Harry had no idea how Neville could have survived that night on Halloween, but times like this, his brown eyes seemed to be far wiser beyond his years. "We would love to have you with us, Harry. Why can't you just tell your parents that you'll be spending Christmas here?"

Ron and Hermione nodded, hopeful smiles on their faces. Harry frowned. They actually wanted him…

"Er," he stuttered…the first time in a long time. "I would love to, but I already told my mother I would be there. Thanks for the offer though." He threw them a grin. "That doesn't mean you can get away without sending me a gift."

They laughed and teased him.

As much as he was uncertain about their friendship, it sure was nice to have someone actually here with him.

Merlin, did he sound like a sap?


	3. Lock Me Up Inside

** Chapter Three: Lock Me Up Inside **

"Draco dear," Harry stopped in the doorway, watching through his black bangs as his mother gave Draco a deep hug. "I've missed you so." Narcissa looked incredibly beautiful. Her long white hair fell to her back in elegant curls. A diamond barrette held back her bangs and revealed her sharp featured face. So fair and stunning. Harry could clearly see he got his mother's delicate aristocratic features.

Bright green eyes glanced toward the shadows where his father stood. Lucius was cold and assessing. Mercury eyes, so like his sons, watched Draco and his wife reunite. Being oddly observant for his age, Harry could tell a gentle smile lay on those thin lips of his father.

He looked away.

Shutting the door to the cold wind, he took off his leather gloves and placed them upon his trunk. Dobby would gather his belongings later and bring them up to his chambers.

"Harrison?" Narcissa's soft voice pulled his attention on to her. Draco was out of her arms and casually getting a pat from his father. His mother's bright blue eyes were assessing him with amazement. "Since when did you grow up, young man?" She held out her arms for him and Harry hesitated. His mother had never been this…warming.

Cautiously, he stepped into her embrace and inhaled her perfume. She always smelt like small bits of vanilla and frost. He knew that wasn't her perfume…it was her power. Going through countless of books at Hogwarts, Harry still hadn't found out the reason he could smell some people's magic and why some didn't even have a scent. Like Draco had no scent and most the children at Hogwarts.

The strongest scent he could smell always came from Dumbledore.

_ And Voldemort. _

Her arms tightened around him. "You look more and more like Regulus and I everyday. So beautiful." Her fingers gently brushed back a piece of black hair from his eyes. From the corner of his eye, Harry watched Draco sneer.

"It's good to see you mother." Harry responded coolly. "I hope all is well?" She gave him a smile and parted.

"As well as things can go." Harry stepped back and glanced at his father. Lucius surveyed him and raised an elegant eyebrow.

"Harrison," Lucius held out his hand. Clenching his jaw, Harry calmly shook it. His father tightened his hold, almost painfully so. Refusing to back down, Harry tightened his own hold. "Still staying stubbornly small, I see."

Harry sighed softly, letting the grasp go. Narcissa cleared her throat softly while Draco sniggered. "Let's get ready for dinner, shall we?" Narcissa guided Draco away and Harry followed gloomily at their heels. The manor was decorated richly. Gold and green was the main color scheme with crimson and silver. Harry eyed the crimson, taking comfort in the color.

The smell of deep evergreen littered the house. It was the smell of Christmas with its spices and sweets of peppermints. As a child, he always enjoyed Narcissa making him a cup of hot chocolate with a stick of peppermint sticking sweetly to the side of the mug. She made herself and him the drink every Christmas morning before Draco woke up. Those were the times he favored. Even if they didn't talk much to one another during their drinking, her presence always soothed him.

"Will we be holding a ball this year, mother?" Draco questioned softly as he sat down at Lucius right. Narcissa sat on Lucius' left and Harry chose to sit near his mother tonight. He had enough of Draco the past half of the year.

"Not this year, my dragon." Narcissa sighed softly, giving Lucius a glance.

As soon as Lucius sat down, they all were allowed to follow suit. As Harry grabbed his silk napkin and placed it on his lap, food magically appeared in front of him. The smell of warm quail made his mouth water. Of course, he had to wait until his father ate the first bite. Once he did, Harry placed the tender meat on his tongue, enjoying the spice and meat.

"I expect you two are enjoying Hogwarts?" Although Lucius addressed them both, his eyes were expectantly on Draco.

"Everything is going superb, father." Harry felt like gagging at Draco's smug look. "My grades went up considerably this past week. And I gained Slytherin one hundred points in two days." That was hardly Draco's doing. Actually both he and Draco had been awarded one hundred points for their project they were assigned for Charms.

Take all the credit, dear brother. "Now now, Draco, what have I told you about bragging?" Refusing to say anything to that, Harry hid his laughter behind a piece of quail. "And how about you?" Lucius turned to him. "Are your grades still the top in your class?"

Smirking, Harry picked up his goblet and raised it toward his father. "Nothing less, father." He sipped at it, eyeing Draco pleasantly over the rim. The boy was pink, trying to hold his tongue.

"Pansy and I are a couple." Draco announced abruptly, turning Lucius' deep gaze off Harry. "It would only work out that way, as you know." Draco gave his father a knowing stare.

Lucius nodded. "It's for the best, Draco. After all, you two are going to be a high couple once the Dark Lord Voldemort returns." Harry perked up at the name, feeling immense warmth in his chest. Merlin, it wasn't because he _loved_ the Dark Lord, but because he was curious and because the Dark Lord would actually spice things up around here.

"So, it's for sure then. He's actually coming back? When?"

Did that sound too eager?

"What would you care? You're _nothing_ to the Dark Lord." Draco spat out, a cruel smile on his face. "Honestly, what do you think you can do for the Dark Lord?"

"Draco," Narcissa scolded sharply, narrowing her blue eyes. "Harrison has a lot to offer Lord Voldemort. Perhaps not as much as you, but he will become a fine Death Eater." What was so special about Draco? Harry bit his lip as he pushed away his cooked carrots. It _had_ to do with the five of them. There was something going on.

And Harry vowed to get to the end of it.

** -SSC- **

He just finished his homework for the upcoming term. The professors gave out advance homework for the next term if a student wanted to get ahead during holidays. Of course, Harry had just gotten home less than a few hours ago and he was slightly put off that it only took him that amount of time to finish. "Merlin, help me."

As the words slipped past his lips, the door opened to his room. He sat up abruptly and watched through lidded eyes as his father made his appearance in his room for the first time in ages. "Father," Harry spoke, standing up.

"Harrison," Lucius responded coldly, looking down at the heap of books on his desk and the research he was doing for potions. "I see you're pushing yourself in your studies." The jewels from Lucius' rings flashed toward Harry as he watched his father flip through his research book. His writing was neat and elegant, just how every Malfoy should write. "I am very proud of you."

Becoming taken off guard, Harry blinked. "Thank you father." It was all he could say. What else was he supposed to say?

Lucius turned back around and started to slowly make his way across the room toward Harry. "Are you in any clubs? Or perhaps any sports?"

Harry knew where this was going. "Quidditch interests me. Perhaps I'll tryout next year as Seeker." He had to tilt his neck back in order to look up at Lucius eyes but he refused to back down.

"I'm curious to know…will that be the Gryffindor Seeker or the Slytherin Seeker? Because from what I've heard, you've taken it upon yourself to befriend the enemy." Lucius came forward and grabbed the silent chin of Harry. "Mudbloods? Weasleys? The boy-who-lived?" Lucius face contorted into anger. "What have I taught you?"

Cold anger swirled in Harry's stomach. Anger kept inside for so long sprang to the surface. With a hiss, he knocked back Lucius' hand from his jaw. "What have you taught me? Absolutely nothing. You think you're all high and mighty for having a son like Draco. What's so special about him anyway? I'm the one who has better grades and the Professors actually like me- unlike Draco-,"

A snap sounded through the room and Harry turned his head to the side of the hand. His cheek burned and he could feel the cool liquid of blood dance its way down his cheek from Lucius' ring. Dark hair veiled his expression as he turned back to his father. Lucius was breathing heavily, a fire in his grey eyes.

"I apologize," Lucius took a calming breath, his eyes assessing Harry's cheek. "I had no right to hit you." He took out a silk handkerchief and took Harry's jaw gently. Harry remained frozen, looking accusingly up at his father as Lucius dabbed the blood.

"What is so special about him?" Harrison asked again, this time softer.

Lucius put his handkerchief away and looked deeply at Harry. "Draco is going to have very large plans when he gets older. The Dark Lord is especially interested in him."

"Draco and the other four? Why is the Dark Lord interested in them?" It was hard, trying to picture Voldemort favoring Draco over him. For a strange moment, Harry thought Voldemort would actually look at him again when he came back. He thought the Dark Lord would make him feel as if he belonged again. It was wistful thinking, considering Voldemort was clearly interested in Draco like his parents.

He felt heavy and exhausted with that knowledge.

"I cannot tell you yet, Harrison. Over time, you'll become a loyal Death Eater and perhaps get informed of the situation." He didn't want to be a Death Eater…he wanted to be more. More special. "Just understand that your brother has been marked specially for Voldemort." Lucius dropped his hand on Harry's shoulder. It felt far too heavy to bear.

"Just remember, Harrison. There will be serious consequences if you stay… _friends_ with those three. There is nothing positive that will come out of it. Do you understand?" Harry stared at the floor, feeling numb.

"Yes sir," he said softly.

"That's a good boy," Lucius patted his shoulder and turned to leave.

Harry stood in that position, feeling a deep burden in his chest. If he was nothing but a Death Eater, why did Voldemort pull him on his lap at a mere six? The Dark Lord wasn't known for his children skills… but Voldemort was just like his father. He favored Draco.

Harry turned and kicked his bed, green eyes seemingly glowing. Draco…there was _nothing_ special about him.

Creeping silently to his door, he slipped out into the dark hallway and made his way down to the deep kitchen. It took him awhile to get down there, but it gave him time to cool down and think. There was a table and chair near a window. He ignored the house elves and curled up underneath the window, placing his forehead on the cold glass.

The moon was bright in the sky, reflecting off the white snow on the ground. Frost grew where his breath hit the window, creating a surreal picture.

"There's my beautiful child." Harry tensed and turned to see Narcissa slowly enter the kitchen. Her hair was flowing around her, almost as white as the lace nightgown she wore. "I've been waiting to get you by yourself…I should have known you were down here. No one ever comes down here but you."

Harry leaned his head back on the window, watching coolly as his mother sat across from him on the window bench. She was carrying a silk sack in her hands but Harry didn't dwell on it too long. Her face was incredibly beautiful in the moonlight…it looked so much like his. But as he looked in her eyes, he saw anger swirling deep within.

"What is it?" Harry asked tiredly, thinking she would scold him for 'befriending those three enemies'.

Narcissa leaned forward, her soft fingers touching his jaw. "He hit you." Her words were hard and her blue eyes were ice. "How dare him…"

Harry shook his head, glancing out at the moon. "I talked back to him- it was my fault."

"Nonetheless, no parent should _ever_ lay a hand on their child." She sounded like an insulted and protective mother. "I will be having a stern talk with him, don't make excuses for him." She paused. "Speaking of physical harm, is your brother treating you any better?" Harry remained quiet. His mother never talked to him like this…his frustration was at an all time high and he spoke his mind.

"Why do you even care?" Harry turned to look at her taken aback face. She was pale- the same color as his own- a dreamlike color that was so fair it looked as if it glowed. "You've never talked to me like this, mother. You were so focused on loving Draco…" he trailed off, breaking. Tears clouded his vision as he looked away.

Narcissa remained silent.

"There are many mistakes I've made in my life, Harrison. I know I have made plenty. But there is one mistake that I've come to realize I can no longer ignore. I confess I was watching Draco far more closely than you. He's going to have a rough future, Harrison. I thought that maybe if I showered him with affection it would lessen his burden-," Harry turned his cheek to her, tired of hearing how important Draco was.

"But then I realized I was leaving you behind. I know you're strong, Harrison. But no child should grow up without a real mother. Granted, I've been there for you, but not the way I should have been. I can see how jealous Draco is of you-,"

"Jealous?" Harry asked; a silly grin on his face. "Draco is not jealous of me."

Narcissa chuckled low in her throat. "Of course he is. You're so very beautiful, Harrison. You're grades are the highest…the way you move and command attention, it's all so pleasing. Draco sees that and feels as if he has to put you in your place. Unfortunately it's by physical harm." She paused. "You are so like Regulus and I, it's frightening. That's how I know you're strong. You can handle all this."

"You act like I'm superior to Draco. I'm not- remember? He's the special one, not me." He couldn't help but to be bitter.

"I'm beginning to think otherwise…" Narcissa said softly, almost too soft for Harry to hear. "I must give you something before we open gifts in front of Lucius and Draco." Harry held back his comments and watched as she pulled out a velvet box and slid it across toward Harry.

For a long moment, he stared at the box. "Whose it from?"

Narcissa smiled, pulling her long hair behind her shoulder. "I cannot tell you who, Harrison. But he told me he wants you to have it. Wear it at all times, never take it off." Harry looked at the box, bemused.

With sure hands, he opened the lid and blinked at the necklace inside. It was a gold locket that held an 'S' engraved on the front with tiny emeralds decorating it. "It's beautiful."

She smiled at him. "He thought you'd say that." She leaned forward, brushing her fingers across Harry's unharmed cheek. "He says it's not as beautiful as you."

Harry glanced at her and then back down at the locket. It gave off a power that made Harry feel comforted and protected. His fingers brushed the 'S' and he shakily unclasped it to put it around his neck. "Who is this 'he', mother?"

She shook her head, a smile teasing her lips as she placed her finger near her mouth to silence him. "It looks handsome on you. He'll enjoy it." Before he could ask her about it, she pulled out one last item from her sack. "This was Regulus' old dagger. He never got the chance to accept its gift, but I hope you embrace it when you get older."

After securing the locket around his neck, he grasped the dagger by the hilt, sheathing it. Green eyes widened. "It's an assassin dagger." They were rare. Only true assassins could wield the dagger. Living a life of an assassin was cold and harsh, but such power was granted to the assassin. "Regulus wanted to be an assassin?"

He admired the dagger. Two snakes entwined together for the hilt and the blade was a jagged shape. Very unique.

Narcissa laughed. "Oh yes, Regulus never stopped talking about becoming an assassin. It was his dream. To move with the shadows, to have such power over others…he would have wanted you to have it, Harrison. I think you'd make a great assassin when you grow older." Harry smiled, putting the dagger back in its place.

"I'd like that." He never thought about becoming an assassin. The intense training, the solitude life…but now that he thought about it- the more he yearned to become one. Why not? It wasn't as if he'd be anything else with Draco in his way.

"I hope you'd come visit me at times, Harry." She leaned over and kissed him on his forehead. "Merry Christmas, my beautiful son."

With a lighter heart, he kissed her cheek back. "Merry Christmas, mother."

She squeezed his hand and seemingly floated out of the room.

He caressed the locket, staring toward the moon again. Assassin… Merlin, it was like a light at the end of the tunnel. Wizards had powerful assassins that killed both muggles and wizard alike. No one lived if they were targeted by an assassin and no one caught the assassin. They were sleek and powerful- something that intrigued Harry.

Just as he was about to leave and go to bed, his head pulsated and he lost his breath. Dropping his dagger on the floor, he leaned heavily against the window, watching as his vision slowly darkened.

_ Neville scrambled backward, his eyes wide. "Give me the stone." Harry sat on the stairs, watching in amazement. He never had a dream like this when he was awake. And Merlin…was that…Voldemort? On the back of Professor Quirrell's head? Crimson eyes looked out at Neville, furious and full of disgust. _

_ Pity, Harry was going to miss Professor Quirrell. _

_ Settling back against the stairs, he knew he couldn't stop anything in these dreams and the occupants couldn't see him. Might as well enjoy watching Neville get his arsed kicked by the Dark Lord. Although the man didn't look too good at the moment… Wait. Did he want Neville or Voldemort to overpower? _

_ He couldn't, for the life of him, decide. But he was cheering for Voldemort nonetheless- even though he'll end up liking Draco more than him when he returned. _

_ His eyes landed on the stone in Neville's hand. It appeared to be the Sorcerer stone; the stone that granted immortality. Brilliant idea for Voldemort- but a rather stupid idea on Dumbledore's part. Why put a stone like that at a school full of children? It was a no brainer that someone would try to get the stone to themselves. Unless…Dumbledore did it for a reason. Harry now understood why Hermione, Ron, and Neville were so secretive. They knew about this… _

_ Harry watched the ugly face of Voldemort turn to look at Neville's fallen form. Of course he wouldn't look beautiful at the moment- he was a parasite living off Quirrell. Not at all how Harry remembered him at the age of six. _

" _Kill him." Voldemort hissed, crimson eyes flaring. Harry perked up. Will this be the end of the boy-who-lived?_

_ Neville cried out, his chin giggling with fright as Quirrell lunged at him. He dropped the stone and tried to block the lunge with his hands. Harry leaned forward, eyes intent as their skin touched. With a sneer, he watched as Quirrell screamed as his skin seemingly becoming cracked stone. _

" _Impossible," Harry whispered softly, grinding his teeth together._

_ It proved his theory. Neville didn't _ have _a_ _special power by defeating Voldemort. It was all because of his mother's sacrifice. That scar on his forehead had some sort of connection/protection with Voldemort. Neville's mother's sacrifice was still running through his veins- his weapon against Voldemort._

_ Poor Dark Lord…Harry tisked, leaning against the stone as he watched Voldemort being defeated. He didn't know if this was happening at the moment or the future, no matter, Harry would act as if he never saw this vision, like he always did. No one believed him. Voldemort didn't believe him neither did his parents. _

_ Just as Neville fainted, Harry's body quivered and dropped. He yelped, squeezing his eyes shut as he free fell. Would he wake up in the Malfoy kitchens again? He never had visions like this..he wouldn't know. _

_ His body hit the hard and cold ground. Just as he opened his eyes, a light of green swept past him and encircled an older boy. The boy looked like an older version of Cedric Diggory. Cedric didn't have anytime to scream as his dead body hit the ground. Harry shivered. Eyes glancing around, he noticed he was in a graveyard. _

_ A scream pierced his ears as he stood up shakily. He turned to see a much older Neville held down on a tombstone. A man sliced his arm, dropping blood into a cauldron. _

_ Things became fuzzy and he had just enough time to watch as the beautiful form of Voldemort rise out of the cauldron. _

Harry whimpered, his body recovering from the convulsions he just had. Why was he getting more and more visions? And why were they more vivid and forceful? Harry turned on his stomach, spitting out the blood in his mouth from biting his tongue. It was his first vision he ever had awake. Would this be a regular occurrence?

Green eyes stared numbly at the puddle of blood on the ground. Was he a bloody Seer?

"If things couldn't get any worse…I have to be a stupid Seer." He didn't know _anything_ about being a Seer. The only Seer he knew of was Professor Trelawney. And he had doubts she was a real one.

Seers…he would have to do some research.

But for now…he was content knowing Lord Voldemort would be returning shortly. It was obvious that Neville and Cedric were in a tournament of sorts because of the uniforms they had on- he didn't know which one- but he would sure know when the time came.

The question was did he want to interfere with the future? Or should he allow Voldemort back?


	4. Sweet Sacrifice

** Chapter Four: Sweet Sacrifice **

Pacing, Harry took a deep breath and switched directions.

His Slytherin robes rustled, but they never made a sound. It was eerie- how completely quiet he was when he was moving. It was the one reason why countless of women and men requested time with him. Not just the way he moved attracted them, but his charm and his appearance. He was still petite, but not painfully so. His black silky hair fell in loose waves around his glowing skin and his eyes were so agonizingly green. He was a Slytherin heart throb.

But not so Slytherin.

It was the very end of his fifth year and Draco was still aggressively hard on him. Draco ran Slytherin. He actually had the nerve to tell his peers that he was going to be the Dark Lord's right hand man when he returned. And the funny thing about it- was they believed him. So Draco had power over his Slytherins- even the sixth and seventh years. There was an unspoken rule not to go near Harrison. Not to befriend Harrison. Not to date Harrison.

That didn't mean Harry didn't talk to some of them. Of course, that was when Draco wasn't around. The girls always gave him sly looks and flushed when he directed his attention on them.

Harry had enough of this. Next year, starting now, he would show Draco that he wasn't at all what he thought he was. His mother wouldn't be pleased- but he wasn't going to live like this during his last two years of Hogwarts. It was his prime- it was _his_ time to shine now.

And it was Voldemort's time to shine.

Harry gave a sigh, pacing more heatedly. "Harrison?" Slowly, Harry turned to look at Pansy. He gave a malicious smirk that seemed predatory. She blushed deeply, looking away to gain her confidence. That was another thing that highly amused him. Draco's ideal bride had an enormous crush on him.

"What is it, Pansy?" He stopped his pacing and stood still, bright eyes on her.

"Why aren't you attending the Third Task? Isn't Longbottom your whipping boy?" He huffed, turning his back on her.

"I prefer not to get in the middle of a catastrophe." In the mirror, he watched her give a bemused look and leave. Of course she wouldn't know what he was talking about. Only he knew what was going to happen to Neville and Cedric.

And he could hardly wait.

Despite the fact Voldemort would come back and favor his brother like everyone else, he was getting bored of Neville and his two cronies. For the life of Harrison, he had tried to be close friends with them. What did they do? Slowly distrust him every year. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he was devastated over their lack of trust just because of his last name.

He had just wanted to fit in. He just wanted a friend.

But all that's changed now. He grew up and turned bitter to friends or any other relationship. There was no such thing as relationships- nothing but a relationship between a mentor and a student and perhaps a mother and a son. Nothing else.

He had dated Cho Chang. She cheated on him with Cedric. He had dated Parvati Patil and what did she do? Crush on Dean Thomas.

Harry gave a bitter laugh. There were no romantic relationships that were right for him. Nothing would ever work out. When Parvati betrayed him, he had laughed, not at all hurt. That had been only last year, when he was slowly turning sour to relationships.

But he was still hanging around the 'Golden Trio'; for reasons completely opposite of his intentions in first year and second year. What better way to aid Voldemort by getting close to the enemy?

Harry vowed he would make Voldemort _see_ him as something more valuable than his brother. After all, he had the highest grades in Hogwarts- already receiving an award for his studies and getting the Medal for Magical Merit. Professor Snape had already shared with him that he would be Prefect next year for his sixth year and possibly be Head Boy in his seventh.

But not everything was about school. Harry caressed the dagger through his pant leg that he kept strapped on his thigh. He never used it…but he decided he would become assassin- and soon. He had already started training himself, including running and keeping as quiet as possible. And not only would he be an assassin, but he was also a Seer. Granted he couldn't find any information on them but the typical myths of visions...

But he saw the future.

It had to mean something to Voldemort, right?

His heart racing, his fingers moved to the locket under his robes, rubbing it. It always soothed him and he felt a warmth surround him.

He knew Lucius would be furious when his relationship with Neville came out. But he had to keep the act up if he wanted an inside peek at the light side. He had successfully hid their _relationship_ this long, but it was bound to come out- especially now that Voldemort would be coming back.

"Come on, Tom…" Harry grinned, remembering the first vision he had of the past. It consisted of Tom Riddle- or in other words- Voldemort. "Hurry your arse up, will you?"

Silently, he walked over to the window, looking out at the dark night. He opened the window and inhaled the night air. If he could inhale hard enough, he could smell lilacs. Eyes snapping open, Harry smiled.

He was back.

"When you're ready, Malfoy, come to my mother." Harry whirled around, looking at Blaise Zabini.

"Excuse me?" Blaise Zabini was an odd young man. He seemed to be like Harry, only…different. There were occasions that Blaise talked with Harry, but that mostly consisted of in the dorm room. The black boy almost seemed to be avoiding him.

He sighed, looking annoyed. "Stop resisting it. When you See it, come to my mother. She's been waiting for you, to start your training." With that, Blaise turned his back on Harry and made his way toward the school grounds.

Harry opened his mouth, a rather uncharacteristic gesture. Before his mind could wrap around what Zabini just said, screams pierced the night.

He smirked, leaning his head against the window. Ah, that would be Diggory's body on the lawn. Beautiful sight. He was almost tempted to go back and look at it once more.

Almost.

** -SSC- **

He shivered as the carriage stopped in front of the Malfoy manor. Egh. Having Hermione cry on him sure was…disquieting. She could cry on him, but she couldn't confess her secrets to him. Rather hypocritical.

"He's actually here," Draco whispered, excitingly, looking out the carriage window toward the manor. Countless of other carriages were there and the fountain was sprouting high water with lights dancing across the falling droplets. "The Dark Lord is actually _here_." Harry grimaced as his brother's breath hit his face.

"Stop drooling, brother. But then again, he would love to see that in one of his dogs…"

Mercury eyes narrowed on him. "Are you disrespecting the Dark Lord? How dare-,"

"No," Harrison said simply, playing with the locket. "I'm simply disrespecting _you_. There is a big difference." There would be the inner circle of Death Eaters here- including the ones Voldemort broke out of Azkaban…like Bella and half the other insane Death Eaters. Not to mention, the 'significant five'. He could sense Draco's excitement at seeing the Dark Lord for the first time. Draco hadn't remembered seeing Voldemort when they were younger.

Odd, considering the last day Voldemort came over was the most vivid day he remembered in his life.

He had been doing research on the reason why Voldemort wanted to use Draco and the other four. It was in fourth year when he realized what they all had in common. They were all first borns and sons/daughters of the inner circle. And then he started doing research on the different rituals one would use for those requirements.

There had been a long list- a list he hadn't had time to narrow down.

But maybe he would find out today. That is, if he was allowed to stay near the Dark Lord. Oh Merlin, he was nervous and excited. What would Voldemort be like after this ordeal? Would he even remember him?

"Look at you," Draco gave a deep sneer. "You're nervous."

Harrison tensed, looking sideways at the blonde. "Am not, I'm just excited to see mother again." Draco's sneer deepened. After Christmas in his first year, his mother and he had formed a strong bond. Much to the utter distaste of Draco. "And Pansy…" Harry taunted, hissing pleasantly.

Draco gave a growl, ready to strangle him, but the door to their carriage opened. A house elf trembled as he allowed Draco to scurry out the carriage, knocking the elf over. Harry grinned, stepping out far more gracefully. He was still wearing his Slytherin robes- school just ending- and his trunk was shrunken in his pocket.

It would have been nice if he could have changed into more elaborate robes. But he didn't want to seem too desperate. After all, Draco was still wearing his Slytherin robes. He should probably tighten his tie and unroll his rolled up sleeves…he shrugged. No need.

Already, he could smell the scent of lilacs. Why did he have to be such a girl? He smelt like lilacs, why did it have to seem so different with Voldemort? And he didn't understand why they smelt the same. His access to decent books was limited. And the ones that actually had decent information had nothing about smelling magic.

The door opened and another house elf stood. "Welcome home misters Malfoy. Your presence is requested in the sitting room." Harry almost beamed. Even _him_? He brushed past Draco and walked silently after the house elf. Draco growled and bumped into his shoulder just as they arrived in the sitting room. Harry allowed Draco to go forth before him as his leaned against the corner of the wall.

Alright, he just had to take a deep breath…and let it out slowly. Was it just him- or did he sound as if he were having an asthma attack? "Draco…" someone who sounded like Bellatrix crooned. He had met her once and even then she seemed a little off her rocker. What would she be like now? And…was Voldemort around the corner as well?

He was fooling himself if he thought he wasn't. The smell of lilacs was strong and he could literary feel the buzz of his magic. "My Lord," Draco whispered. And Harry felt himself shake. He had gone over what he should do at this time ever since he was ten…but now that the time was here, he wanted to run away.

"Mr. Malfoy," Voldemort hissed softly back, his voice sending chills down Harry's back. "Where is your brother?" He sounded amused. Green eyes snapped open wider and he wanted to scurry away.

_ I can't do this. _

"Probably hiding, My Lord." Crimson stained Harry's cheeks and he narrowed his eyes. Draco was going to get it…he vowed he would get revenge on his brother. What should he do? Should he hide? Should he bend down to tie his shoelaces?

Just as he was about to scream, his pleads were answered. The entrance door opened again and Pansy and her father came inside. He trotted silently over to them, grinning. "Hello Mr. Parkinson and Ms. Parkinson. May I escort you to the sitting room?" Pansy's father gave him a slight nod of acceptance while Pansy blushed and scooted closer to him.

"Hello Harrison," she flashed him a smile as they made their way to the sitting room. Harry glanced guiltily at the corner. This time he couldn't stop there or he'd never be able to face anyone again.

Here it was…just around the corner…

They crossed the barrier and Harry took a deep breath, looking up.

His eyes immediately landed on the Dark Lord's crimson gaze. He lost his breath. Voldemort was sprawled out richly on the head couch, holding a crystal tumbler in his hand. His dark hair fell down his back in straight, silky, strands. The robes he had on were elegant and showed off his graceful form. He was beautiful…

Voldemort gave Harry a predatory stare as he sipped from his drink.

Why did Harry think he could do this again? He felt as if he'd make a fool of himself. "Mr. and Ms. Parkinson, I welcome you." Voldemort greeted, motioning toward the empty spot near Draco's still form. "Harrison," this time, Voldemort gave him a smirk. "I've been eager to meet you again."

"Harrison?" Bellatrix snapped Harry out of his staring contest with Voldemort. "Look at you!" She giggled insanely and tiptoed over to him, taking him roughly by the neck. His head was forced on her bosom, not exactly tall enough to land anywhere else…

Her talon fingers stroked his hair rather forcefully. "Look at how _cute_ he is. Cissy…doesn't he look just like us Blacks?" Harry's cheeks turned red. "Rodolphus, doesn't he look like me?" She asked the rather thin looking man who was eating the hand sandwiches.

"No," he laughed, spitting some sandwiches from his mouth. "At least not now…" Yellow teeth flashed. Harry grimaced.

Bellatrix screeched in anger, clutching onto Harrison. He threw his mother a pleasing look and she stood up, gently removing him from Bella's angry grasp. This was incredibly awkward…not at all how he expected his first meeting with the Dark Lord. Lucius stood up, placing his hand on Harrison's shoulder. Before he knew it, he was being led out the room…

No. He wanted to stay.

"Lucius," Voldemort warned softly. "I'd like Harrison's presence." Lucius faltered, his hand tightening on Harry's shoulder. Narcissa smiled, pleased.

"Of course, My Lord." Lucius bowed, keeping his hand on Harry's shoulder. "If I may, I need to discuss something with Harrison before we start?" Harry glanced over his shoulder at Voldemort. The man waved a hand in disinterest, his shocking red eyes on Harry. Becoming flustered, Harry turned back around, following his father's hand.

Once they were out of the room, Lucius led him upstairs. Harry didn't dare glance to his right where they all sat, probably watching their retreat.

The closest room with a door turned out to be Harry's room. Lucius shut the door softly and let Harry go, pacing. "How was your last term of school?" Harry felt his chest compact. Because he knew what was coming…he knew what he had to do.

He had to turn on his father and turn to the light side. He had to. Merlin, he would have loved to go down there again and see Voldemort. The man had remembered him and didn't seem to favor Draco in the least. Did he really need to leave?

The dagger seemed to burn his skin. Yes, he had to leave. He was far too important to just be an average Death Eater. He wanted to do more for this war, to make his own path. Assassin, Seer, spy… anything but a loyal servant.

He took a deep breath, knowing how much this would hurt his mother. As much as he would like, he couldn't bring himself to care about his father's feelings. "It was fine father. What do you want? You must have brought me up here for a reason."

Lucius gave Harry a searching look. "I would like to offer your services to the Dark Lord. Perhaps you can lend your hand in bringing Longbottom to him by befriending him again?"

Harry clenched his jaw, truly angry. _Now_ Lucius wanted him to befriend Neville? Just to betray him? He shook his head, giving a small smile- his chest tightening.

"What?" Lucius asked dangerously.

"You're mistaken, father. I _am…_ friends…" that was hard to say, but perhaps Lucius wouldn't catch on. "…with Longbottom. I have been ever since the train ride to Hogwarts. There is no way in hell I'm betraying him."

It hurt to say. But his drive to do something himself was so strong, he could taste it. Merlin…he didn't want to be an average Death Eater. He didn't want his father to figure out his future. It may hurt now and they may not understand why he was doing it but in the future, he would show them he was doing it all along to secure the dark side and them.

It was for them and for him.

"What?" Lucius asked again, this time his voice raising. Harry took a step back when he noticed his father's vein pulse at his temple. That wasn't a good sign. "You _dare_?" Harry took a deep breath, reaching for the door handle. Just as he was about to escape, Lucius reached out and slammed the door before he could get very far.

With a sharp tug, Lucius strangled Harry around the neck. "You exit that door and you will no longer be my son. You'll be thrown from the Malfoy name for humiliating me in front of the Dark Lord. I _warned_ you that you shouldn't get close to those three…you went against my orders."

Harry paused. Merlin… should he really… could he really confide in his father? Could he trust the man who he wanted to look at him with the same eyes as he did Draco? "I'm doing it for you." Harry said softly, considering his throat was being squeezed. "I'm befriending them in order to gather information…"

Lucius widened his eyes and then narrowed them. "Then you'll go down to the Dark Lord and become marked the way it should be. And then you bring Longbottom to him as a gift." Harry shook his head, a small frown on his face.

"You don't understand." He looked deep in his father's eyes. "You may be able to dictate Draco's life, but I will not allow you to run my life. I'm not going to become a Death Eater like you. It's a disgrace to myself to grovel at his feet…" Lucius' vein pulsed again. "I…I think I'm going to become an assassin." He spilled his deepest desire.

Lucius let his throat go and stared at him. If anything, Harry thought he would become angry again…not burst out laughing. "An assassin? Has Narcissa filled your head with silly dreams?" Lucius scoffed. "Assassin's are powerful wizards…they're dedicated, they are completely aware of everything. They aren't a mother's child."

Harry felt a deep sadness well up in his chest. "What are you trying to say?" His voice broke, looking up at the man he hoped to get along with as he got older.

"You may be smart, Harrison. I will give you that. But you are by far the most…" Lucius trailed off, shaking his head. "You aren't powerful enough to become an assassin, son. You aren't observant and you cannot live away from your mother. You're Death Eater material, Harrison." He talked to him as if he were thick. "Now, come downstairs and embrace your destiny. You are to become a loyal follower; perhaps, even someday you will enter the inner circle."

Harry couldn't breathe…

"Harrison, Lucius?" Narcissa knocked on the door, concerned. "Is everything alright?"

"Everything is fine, Cissy." Lucius chuckled darkly. "Just setting Harrison straight in his path in life."

"In my path in life…" Harry repeated softly, staring at nothing.

"Harrison, _my son_ , you should concentrate on more **realistic** dreams."

"In _my_ path in life…" Harry said softly.

"Becoming a proud Malfoy politician in the Ministry…"

"In _my path_ in life…"

"Your smarts could be useful for the Dark Lord…"

"Harrison, Lucius?" Narcissa tried the handle.

"In my life…my life…"

"You could protect Draco."

Harry snapped, reaching out to slam his fist against Lucius' face. "It's _my_ life!" Harry breathed heavily, aware that his mother entered. Lucius stumbled backwards, holding up an aristocratic hand to his cheek. Wide grey eyes stared at him in outrage. "You never saw me, did you _father_? You were too busy staring at Draco to notice you have a son who could destroy you in a duel."

Narcissa shushed him, laying a hand on his shoulder to comfort him- but he wasn't done. "Did you have any idea that all I wanted was your approval? I accepted that you may not love me as much as you love Draco, but the least you could do was actually see _me_ for who I am. Perhaps, maybe, I would have turned out the way you wanted me to."

"Harrison," Narcissa whispered brokenly.

Harry shook his head, leaving the room. "My word stays true," Lucius yelled after him, his face red. "You will no longer be a Malfoy if you leave this manor."

Everyone probably knew what had happened…they heard his father's words. As he climbed down the stairs, Draco stood at the bottom and Bellatrix stared horrified up at him. He was far too embarrassed to look at Voldemort or the others.

"You're really leaving?" Draco asked, a bright smile crossing his lips. "You are nothing without your name."

Bellatrix grimaced, playing with her fingers as Harry came stomping down the stairs. She backed away as he turned to stare up at Draco. He wished he was taller than him, just this once.

And he would do something to Draco just as he did his father.

He brought back his fist and crashed it directly in Draco's nose. There was a satisfying 'crunch' and Draco screamed. " _Correction, dear brother, you are the nothing."_ He hissed it in parseltongue, an ability he chose to keep quiet. Draco's eyes widened in horror.

"A parselmouth!" Bellatrix screeched, watching as he ran toward the door. She tried to go after him, but Narcissa pushed her back.

Harry ran to the door before anyone could catch him. His eyes were full of tears, ready to fall. "Harrison," his mother cried after him, running. "Harry, please…"

As soon as he opened the door and stepped out, the wards lurched, finding him an unwanted guest, and picked him off his feet and threw him out of the boundary line.

He landed roughly on his chest, knowing it would be bruised for a long while. He knew the wards would do that and luckily, he was ready for his mother to run out the house…which is why he apparated away. He couldn't stay…his mother would try to convince him to stay back and give his father another chance. And if he would have looked back, he would have stayed out of guilt at seeing his mother collapse to her knees, crying.

His father's words stung. He confided in his father. He was open and vulnerable when he confessed his desires...and his father tore him down.

He needed somewhere safe to let out his bottled up emotions.

** -SSC- **

Draco stared in horror at the scene in front of him. Every one of the guests was frozen, completely unsure what to do. His nose throbbed… at least he was done crying. That was a humiliation but not as embarrassing as his family.

Bellatrix stayed against the wall, playing with her fingers- a serene expression on her face as she watched Narcissa pick herself up from outside. Lucius had just finished making his way down the stairs and the rest of the Death Eaters were standing awkwardly from their chairs. The only one that seemed unaffected was Voldemort.

He tipped back his drink and finished the whisky. Of course the Dark Lord wouldn't care about Harrison. After all-,

Draco paused as he witnessed the Dark Lord's expression. It was completely hard as he met eyes with Draco.

Draco had to look away. Why did the Dark Lord even care about his brother? If he remembered correctly, as soon as Harrison stepped foot in the sitting room, the Dark Lord never took his eyes away from his stupid brother.

Why? Why? Why! It was _he_ who was important. He had the serpent on his ankle to prove it.

Narcissa shut the door quietly behind her, her eyes were red but her chin was up with dignity. "How dare you," she whispered to Lucius. Draco heard crying and whirled around to see Pansy sniffing. He sneered but he turned back when he heard a snap. His mother had just slapped his father across the face.

Without saying another word, Narcissa climbed the stairs- Bellatrix at her heels.

Voldemort stood up, sending his magic rolling across the room. Draco couldn't wait to share that magic…he could just taste it now.

Setting his glass down, he made his way over to the frozen Lucius. "Come now, Lucius…" Voldemort purred, running a finger down his father's face. "Let's have a small… _chat,_ shall we?"

Draco swallowed heavily as he watched his father follow Voldemort down the stairs, most likely going to get punished.

It all was because of that…that…

Draco growled and stomped toward the door his father disappeared to, leaving the company standing awkward.


	5. Blame it on Me

** Chapter Five: Blame It On Me **

Lucius took a deep breath, kneeling down on the hard ground as the Dark Lord paced back and forth in front of him. As soon as they were secluded in the basement, Lucius dropped to his knees, clearly understanding that he displeased his Lord…and Narcissa. But he had every right to disown Harrison. Complete disrespect and a need to break every order he gave the boy…he knew as soon as Harrison was born that he would have trouble with him.

And to think Harrison actually thought he could defeat _him_ in a duel.

"I'm very disappointed, Lucius. Do you have any idea why?" Lucius was very pleased to have his Lord back. They could finally knock off the mudbloods and the traitorous purebloods. And the dark purebloods will rise to power again. Not only that, but Draco would soon get his rightful destiny.

As much as one might think of him as cold- he did love his family. He even loved Harrison. The boy was just unsure about what to do in his life. Perhaps a little distance from his mother might give him the wake up call he needed to give himself to the Dark Lord.

"No, My Lord." He didn't know why Voldemort was this displeased with him. Perhaps it was because of the disrespect Harrison showed the Dark Lord. If Lucius was to accept Harry back into the family someday, he needed to make good graces with the Dark Lord. "Please forgive Harrison, My Lord. He's just having-,"

"I'm not angry with sweet Harrison, Lucius. I'm irate with you." Lucius widened his eyes, keeping his eyes on the floor. "I was anxiously seeking Harrison's presence tonight and you go and ruin my chance." Voldemort hissed out. "Whatever gave you the idea to disown such an asset to the war?"

Lucius had never heard Voldemort this angry.

"My Lord, I love my son, truly I do…he just doesn't have the right head on his shoulders."

"And you thought you would straighten his head by kicking him, Merlin knows where?" Voldemort stopped before Lucius and placed his foot on Lucius' head, pushing his nose to the ground. "Tell me, Lucius, what is wrong with Harrison? I saw now flaw in him today and over the course of his childhood. I only saw a flaw in the way you raised him."

Lucius flinched, his nose pressing deeply into the concrete ground. "I did it for you, My Lord. He doesn't wish to serve you."

The foot left his head and Voldemort made a humming noise. "Oh really?"

"He has this foolish idea of being…an assassin, My Lord. He wished to serve you in a way that isn't a typical Death Eater. I tried to convince him he could never be an assassin and that you may allow him in your inner circle when time and loyalty permitted it."

Voldemort chuckled lowly. "My inner circle? With time?"

"I realize my words were spoken out of turn. It is you who should make that decision, not me." Lucius remained on the floor, his eyes closed. They snapped open when he felt Voldemort crouch down next to him.

"Harrison is _much_ more than a member of my inner circle, Lucius. Much more." He breathed and Lucius shuddered. "I don't want him to become an assassin."

Harrison could never become an assassin-,

"Why don't you see your child for who he is, Lucius?" Voldemort stood up. "Rise." Lucius scrambled up, well aware of the large bruise on his cheek from both Harrison and Narcissa. He tried to put as much dignity in his stance as possible. He watched Voldemort as the Dark Lord paced back and forth. "He's a _gem,_ Lucius. He's such a value to me. You don't see his power like I do."

Lucius remained quiet.

"You don't think he can become an assassin, Lucius. But he can easily become one. He's magically powerful, someone I want at my side. The life of an assassin is cold- it turns the assassin against human interaction and embraces them in a life of solitude and shadows." Fingers shot out and grasped his jaw tightly. "I don't want him away from me. You will bring him back, do you understand? He'll be a Malfoy once again- out of Dumbledore and the Assassin Guide's hands. And you'll treat him just as if you treat the other boy."

Voldemort let go of Lucius' jaw, disgusted. "I thought you were my most loyal and trusted follower, Lucius. I thought you were able to act without my supervision- but I am proved wrong. Not only did you raise Harrison wrong, you also raised the other child like a damned Hufflepuff. I have eyes, Lucius. I know what he's like around Hogwarts. Treating Harrison like an enemy? Walking around like he's the next great thing? If he thinks he'll be my next right hand man, he has a long way to go before I even look on him in that light.

"You must know that if his attitude gets anymore out of hand- many people- including Dumbledore will become suspicious. His duty as first born is to help me gain power, for the dark side to overpower the light. You want that to happen, don't you Lucius?"

He wanted nothing more than that. He settled for nodding, feeling as if he needed to revaluate every decision in his life. "Yes," he whispered softly.

"Then I trust you to settle things the way they were meant to be."

Voldemort turned his heel.

"Oh, and Lucius?" Lucius tensed, knowing what was coming. _"Crucio."_ He dropped to the floor, gasping and screaming in pain. Voldemort lifted the curse. "I would love to keep you under longer, I know how much you deserve it. But you'll need your head when you come to terms with how wrong you are." It wasn't until Voldemort left the room that Lucius laid his cheek pathetically on the cold floor.

It was time to open his eyes.

He needed to leave- to gather his thoughts and shape them into the man he was before his judgment was so clouded and jaded.

** -SSC- **

He passed the idiot child…what was the boy's name again? Ah, yes, Draco. The boy was outside the closed door, listening in on him and his father. He resisted a sigh. Did he really have to mend such a broken family when he never had one himself?

Considering it was for his mate, he thought his time was well worth it. In the long run at least.

The blonde brat shrank down and attempted to hide into the shadows. Pathetic. He could smell his fear. Smelling emotions was new to him, all thanks to Harrison. Almost fifteen years ago today, he found his magical Match- in other words, his 'mate'. Before Harrison was born, he scoffed at the idea of having a magical Match. After all, who could Match with him? And it was even rarer for powerful wizards. Having the identical magical signature as another was extraordinary.

And that tiny child ended up as his Match.

For a long while, he tried to come to terms with the new situation and eventually became infatuated with both the idea and Harrison. A consort…but a consort who could protect himself and challenge him. Things wouldn't be boring with Harrison around. He was excited to finally gain possession of the small, beautiful, wizard.

With each magical Match, both individuals gained a unique trait that the other possessed. As Harrison proved today, he gained parseltongue. And Voldemort gained emotional sensing. He didn't understand it for a long while until the night he vanished. Harrison was a Seer. Full fledged Seer's could sense emotions and the stronger they got, the more abilities they gained. Harrison had not gained emotional sensing yet, simply because he wasn't full fledged as of yet.

With each passing day, he grew hungrier for Harrison. Granted, he understood he couldn't exactly pounce on the boy, but he wouldn't sit back and let this family ruin his mate. Harrison and he would do wonders together; no one would stand in their way.

Moving his attention on the idiot child, he struck out and curled his fingers around the collar. The blonde cried out, a deep flush on his cheeks.

Looking into his eyes, Voldemort smirked. The boy thought him incredibly handsome and frightening. He was aroused and hypnotized with his magic- just as everyone was…everyone but Harrison.

"Mr. Malfoy, listening in I presume?" He hissed softly, throwing the boy down on the couch. The other Death Eaters had left. He could sense Bellatrix and Narcissa upstairs and Lucius downstairs. That left just him and the creature in front of him.

This would be fun.

He hadn't had any fun for so long…

Unfortunately he couldn't have as much fun as he wanted with this little…twerp.

"N-no, My Lord. I was just…"

Lie.

"You must know by now, the rumors that surround my power. It's a pity the younger generations haven't yet experienced it." He grinned maliciously down at the nervous boy. This boy…he didn't have much power. He couldn't smell any scent to the boy. Rather a pity. Nonetheless, he had _some_ power he could eat. On the other hand, Harrison always smelt of recently bloomed lilacs. It made him mad. He could spend hours inhaling the scent of his Match.

Soon.

"You think you're important, don't you, Mr. Malfoy? After all, I've marked you and have such _big_ plans for your future. Sharing magic with me- it should be only fair to give you a taste of that magic now, don't you agree?" The boy gave a shaky shrug, his eyes large and unsure. Such a foolish boy. "But first, I believe it's your time for a little wake up call like your father's. Tell me, why do you pick on your brother so much?"

Draco shivered, still slouched defeated on the couch. His neck was cranked as far back as it could go just to meet the Dark Lord's eyes. Crimson eyes held him there, looking deep within.

"He's…" _He's better looking than me._ That was true. Harrison had such a dark beauty around him. Voldemort would never deny such exquisiteness. "…not smart…" _He has better grades than me. The professors love him… even McGonagal loves him._ "He's not right for your services…" _You shower him with more attention than me._

"You're a spoiled brat, Mr. Malfoy." The blonde boy looked horrified. Really, this was boring. He might as well end this shortly and spend his time doing something constructive. He wanted a challenge. Briefly, when he thought of a challenge, he pictured his Match. Harrison would certainly be a challenge he would enjoy pursuing.

He took his wand out and Draco shuddered, his lips turning into something ugly. Voldemort sneered. "You are by far the biggest disappointment I have seen in my services for a long time. Even the spies that betray me have a thicker backbone than you do." His wand waved and Draco's Slytherin badge shredded. "You call yourself a Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy, but you can't accept that there are wizards better than yourself. A true Slytherin would know a good ally when they see one and get as close as possible.

"If you continue this behavior, I will consider unmarking you. You are not the only wizard and you should start acting like it- do you understand me?" The boy looked as if he swallowed a lemon when he mentioned unmarking him.

It was better they didn't know anything about the ritual. He couldn't 'unmark' the boy. He would need that mark in order to eat his magic, no matter how diminutive that power was.

"Y-yes…"

Voldemort gave him a smile full of teeth. "Now that you understand, just a small warning if you step out of line again… I won't hesitate to hurt you if you harm your brother again. Physically or mentally… but threatening isn't so much fun without proof it can actually be played out. Remember I promised you a taste of the magic you'll be receiving from me?" He leaned down and whispered in Draco's ear. "I know you want a taste…"

Through the small link, Voldemort gave Draco the feeling of having his magic.

Draco's grey eyes slid in the back of his head and he screamed. Voldemort backed away, grinning. Harrison had as much power as he had himself- it was amusing seeing those of lesser power experience the magic he did every day.

The veins in the child's neck seemed to burst and pulse under his skin and the thick smell of arousal filled the air. It was dangerous if he gave the boy too much 'feeling' of the magic. His body was not used to it all- he would die of a heart attack or a burst artery. During the ritual, the children would think they feel the magic and think they had the magic, but in truth, Voldemort would slowly leak their magic in his own core.

True, they could still cast magic…and when he drank every last drop of their magic- they would die. It would be suspicious to their parents if the five all died around the same time. It would be a careless move if he allowed that to happen. He was smarter than them. A simple plan to have the enemies kill the five in battle would do nicely.

No one would be the wisest.

He took back the magic and stepped back, watching as the boy shuddered pleasantly and blacked out.

Now, _that_ was fun.

Brushing off his robes, he made his way up the stairs. Two down, one lonely one left.

Harrison would need to repay him. He already had numerous of pleasurable ways the gorgeous child could repay him. And he was looking forward to each and every one of those fantasies. And they _would_ come to play.

He stopped before the door. The smell of lilac engulfed him. This was Harrison's room and Narcissa and Bellatrix were inside. At least there was no crying coming through the door- but the overwhelming feeling of anguish came to him. Not exactly his favorite emotion, but he expected no less from Harrison's mother.

He stepped through the door, bringing the two women's attention onto him. "Bellatrix," he didn't need to say more. She bowed and shuffled out of the room, probably happy to be out of Narcissa's mournful woos.

Shutting the door behind him, he looked around the room. He inhaled softly, his face stone. There were hardly any distinguishable characteristics of the room to tell who lived within. He did spot the desk full of papers and random elegant sentences and proofs. He paused near the dresser, staring at the picture of Harrison and his mother.

Seeing the boy again, Voldemort grew greedy. Those bright green eyes would always hold sway over him. "He turned out to be a handsome young man, didn't he?" Narcissa grinned at his back. He didn't answer her- she already knew what he wanted. He watched as Harrison embraced his mother, a true smile on his face.

"Now you understand why I told you and not your husband. He needed you as a child. You raised him well." Voldemort turned and looked at the poised Narcissa, sitting upon her son's bed. He could clearly see Harrison got his features from her.

The Malfoy wife was a woman Voldemort could look to for order and accomplishment. She had power and a cold disposition toward others outside her house. But those that she cared for, she would protect with every ounce of strength in her elegant body. Exactly the reason why he confided in her about the fact Harrison was his magical Match, which is why he gave her the Horcrux to give Harrison. He trusted her with Harrison's trust, love, and safety far more than Lucius.

"You talked to Lucius. I hope you did less talk and more punishment." Narcissa spoke sophisticatedly, a fire in her eyes.

"He'll come around." Voldemort guaranteed, looking at her coldly.

She gave a sharp nod, giving him a deep look. "You didn't tell him Harrison and you are-,"

"No," he interrupted. "He will be the last to know."

"You didn't hurt Draco, did you? I heard him screaming." There was that damned protective light in her eyes that Voldemort both hated and admired.

"That spoiled brat got what was coming to him. How, Narcissa, could you raise such an amazing child such as Harrison and then raise something like… _him_." His voice dripped of disgust.

She puffed out her chest, crossing her legs together. Blue eyes dueled him, daring him to enter her mind- she had nothing to hide. "Underneath Lucius' bad filth, Draco is a sweet boy."

Voldemort hissed softly. "I didn't come to talk about this." He stalked nearer to her, staring her down. "What I would like to know is how Harrison came up with the notion of _assassins._ " His power leaked out, making the hair on her arms stand up but she didn't flinch.

"Your power does not frighten me like it does the others." She lifted her chin. "Harrison has exactly the same power as you. Do you think I've been as blind as Lucius? I've felt his power- and he's been angry with me on countless of occasions. You can't use my son's power against me."

Voldemort chuckled low in his throat, eyes flashing. "But I'm not your son. Nor am I as forgiving as him." He sneered, pausing. She was using her mother tone with him. He growled. "I trusted you with the protection of my mate. What did you do in return? Fill his head with notions he can become an assassin."

Narcissa cocked her head to the side, her face set in marble. "You don't think he can be an assassin?"

"That is not the point. Do you have any idea what assassin's are like? Do you understand their training?" He paused, grinning sadistically. "Don't you remember what happened to your cousin?"

Narcissa lost her set face and stood up, her eyes burning with emotion. "Harrison _is not_ Regulus." She took a deep breath, glaring at him. "Regulus wanted to impress his mother…that is why he decided to try to become an assassin. He wanted her to stop looking at Sirius' betrayal and see him. Harrison is a whole different case. Aside from his magical strength, he has a drive that Regulus never had and he has the determination. His powerful magic has nothing to do with surviving the assassin training. I know he can do it."

"That is true," Voldemort agreed matter-of-factly. "But Regulus and Harrison both have a lot in common. You cannot be blind to that."

"Harrison will not end up dead." Narcissa said confidently and heatedly. Not her child. Her child was perfect in her eyes.

"No, he won't." Voldemort agreed again, slowly starting to back up. "But let's hope he doesn't turn cold and isolated. I will do anything in my power to stop him from approaching any assassin and I expect you do the same."

Narcissa smiled, sitting on the bed once again. "You just don't have any belief in him. Harrison will turn out just fine. Only a little happier and his self pride will show through. He'll turn into a confident young man." She raised an eyebrow. "He'll be perfect for you."

"Let's hope you're right."

He turned to leave. He had enough playing the part of the family psychiatrist. It was time to spy on his mate…

** -SSC- **

Its better this way.

Harry sighed, leaning against the broken pillar. He had no idea where he was. All he knew was he had to get away from that…situation. Merlin… he tipped his head back and ran his hands down his face.

The Ministry wouldn't find his underage magic from apparating. They didn't track that type of activity. Of course, he wouldn't 'officially' learn it until he was sixteen, but he had been bored this past year and decided to learn how to transport himself.

He stretched his legs out, watching as the night approached. All around him, there were large boulders and broken down temples. The boulder he was currently on now seemed to swallow him. His torso was in the shadows, no one would ever notice him if they decided to wander by. It gave him enough time to think…think about his father.

No matter what happened between them, he loved his father.

Harry sneered. He even loved his brother. That was one thing his mother taught him. Even if there were tough times, they were still family. And family was something you needed to stick closely to.

That didn't mean he didn't hate them. He hated them- but he loved them. What his father did…

Harry bit his lip, narrowing his eyes to keep from crying. He confided in his father and he set himself up to get stepped on. For a strange second, he thought he could trust Lucius to believe in him and to actually see him. Why wasn't he proud of him?

"Because he doesn't _see_ me," Harry whispered into the wind. "Because no one sees me for whom I really am." Nonetheless, his mother also raised him to be strong and independent. He would continue on with his plan.

Dumbledore was a sucker for crushed enemies. Not that Harry was an enemy in Dumbledore's eyes, but he came from a family that was known to be deep in the Dark Arts. If he came to Dumbledore with the news of being disowned, perhaps the man would see that he was alone and no where to go…he was, really. And then he would get as much information as he could and assist the Dark Lord.

But.

Did he want to be an assassin now? Or when things settled down?

And then he remembered Zabini's words. _"When you See it, come to my mother."_

A Seer. He understood now. Blaise wanted him to seek him out when he was ready- ready for a change- ready for the new chapter in life.

"I don't seem to remember this place…" a voice broke his thoughts and he braced himself against the stone, turning to see the Dark Lord. His heart skipped a beat, a nervous little flutter at seeing the man he'd been dying to for so long.

It was a pity he couldn't be swallowed up by the shadows and hide away his embarrassment.


	6. Find a Back Door Out of Life

** Chapter Six: Find a Back Door Out of Life **

"How…how did you find me?" It was his first words to the Dark Lord and he managed to stutter and sound stupid at the same time. Brilliant, Harrison, brilliant. The Dark Lord looked handsome standing serenely near the broken temple. His hair gently waved at him in the wind and his crimson eyes glowed as he settled Harry with his predatory stare. The same stare Harry could never seem to break contact with.

He was locked on the Dark Lord. Everything about the man seemed to awaken his senses and actually make him feel human. Nonetheless, the Dark Lord also made him a stuttering mess.

Dare he say he was _actually smitten_ with the man? Merlin, it would never work out. First off, Voldemort was a powerful Dark Lord who had no interests in boys half…more than half his age. And secondly, Harry didn't believe in relationships.

"You have a distinct smell of lilac. I followed your magical trace after you apparated." Harry perked up, coming halfway out of the shadows.

"You can smell power as well?" Voldemort grinned amusedly at him. "I've smelt since I was a little boy. My father thought I was crazy…" He remembered telling Lucius about Voldemort's lilac smell. That hadn't gone all too well.

Voldemort seemed to float nearer toward him, causing Harry to retreat deeper in the shadows. "Smelling aura's is rare. Only powerful wizards are able to smell auras. If I'm correct in assuming, only you, Dumbledore and I can sense auras." Voldemort paused in his advance, noting how Harry seemed to draw back from him. "The ability is very unique, you should be proud of the ability, not self-conscious."

"I'm not," Harry shot back. "I just don't have a very wide access of good information at Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts library is indeed lacking on information for the above average wizard." Voldemort agreed softly. "Or the Lord level wizard."

Harry became flustered under his stare, turning to look in the distance. "I apologize for my behavior today, My Lord. You needed not to have seen… _that._ " He thought he might as well apologize for his lack of manners.

"I don't think you are the one who needs to apologize, Harrison." From the corner of his eyes, he watched warily as Voldemort continued his way toward him. The closer the Dark Lord came, the tenser he became. "I had a talk with your father on his rash decision. He's starting to realize where he went wrong with raising you."

Harry didn't say anything to that. The Dark Lord didn't have a right to dig into his personal upbringing- but he would never say that out loud. He knew what would happen. Lucius loved Voldemort so much that he'd do anything to please his Lord. And that included trying to love a child he had no heart to do so.

"I don't want to be part of his family any longer." He watched as the Dark Lord sat down across from him, forcing to meet his stare. Even if he was a little miffed that Voldemort dug into his personal life, it was slightly flattering that the man _cared_ enough to do so.

"Nonetheless," Voldemort sat poised near Harry's stretched out legs and turned his torso toward him. "I have wanted to meet with you for so long. The last time I saw you, you were a little runt who barely came up to my knees." Harry grinned in spite of himself. "But there is something we need to discuss face to face." Harry tensed, watching him with hooded eyes. "You're a Seer and you have not told anyone yet."

Harry turned his cheek away for a moment, laying it on the cold stone. His eyes sought the rising moon. "So you do remember that day." Harry gave a dry smile, turning back to the crimson gaze. Voldemort was so emotionless, it was hard to discover what the man was thinking or feeling. "Now you understand why I have yet to tell anyone. No one would believe me."

"Forgive me, I was in my prime. I didn't want to listen to a six year old who told me I would blow up." Voldemort sounded amused. "If I knew what you were, I wouldn't have gone to Longbottom's house."

"The prophecy is not true." Harry blurted out.

Red eyes blinked. "Excuse me?" The Dark Lord seemed to be tense and angry.

"I knew you went to Neville's house because of a prophecy you heard, about him being your equal. It's not true. You only feared it and set it in motion. Trust me when I say Neville isn't exactly the type of wizard to be your equal."

"He is not my equal." Voldemort was upset. Harry thought it amusing. "On first name basis, Harrison?" Such raw possessiveness sounded through his tone that it took Harry off guard.

"I think you know where my loyalties lie." Harry pointed out softly, grinning slightly. "You would not be here if you knew I was with Neville and Headmaster Dumbledore." Harry paused; looking at Voldemort's composed expression. Damn the man for having no expressions. "Forgive me if I sound blunt, My Lord. But why are you here? I know you have far better things to do than hunt after a fifteen year old whose been disowned."

All he had on him were the materials in his shrunken trunk. But that was all he needed. He didn't need the gold in his vault or the house elves slaving after him. He had things he needed to take care of this summer.

Voldemort reached forward and laid his hand on Harry's knee. His heart skipped a beat and he lost his breath at the contact. He hoped his face didn't show anything, but judging from the Dark Lord's sudden smirk, he was afraid he wasn't successful in hiding his awkwardness.

"You're a powerful wizard, Harrison. Others may not see your potential or they tend to look over you, but I can see you… _clearly_. Those hidden abilities you choose to hide, I know them all. Even if you reassure me I have your loyalties, the least I can do is court you properly to my side."

Harry sucked in a breath as the hand rose higher, dangerously close to his thigh. "With…with all do respect, My Lord, I cannot become your Death Eater. Anything but that."

" _Anything_ but?" The hand drew closer near his hip and inched inward. Harry blew out a loud breath of air and burst out laughing. It was a nervous laugh and his leg jerked away from the hand unconsciously. He had to remember that Lord Voldemort was a King of seduction. Men and women always became jelly legged around him and seemed to do his bidding with a bat of the lashes.

Voldemort didn't think it amusing and continued to stare at him, keeping his hand in place. "You seem awfully jumpy, child. Anything wrong?"

"Everything," Harry whispered, teeth clenching. He tried to ignore the hand baiting him to loose control. Building up his courage, he pushed back against the wall and leaned closer to Voldemort, making the hand on his inner groin fall off. "I want to get information on the light side."

"So I've heard," Voldemort's nose was near his own. "I trust you enough to allow you to do that."

Harry was taken aback. "You-you do?" He cursed himself for stuttering again. "I…and you won't mark me?"

He watched as a slow smile came across Voldemort's lips, showing off his straight white teeth. "With the Dark Mark? No my child." He sounded extremely amused. "But when I want you to stop spying, you'll stop. And if you sense any cruel intentions from the old fool, I want you to stop. I'll have eyes on you. If you, even a small indication, show me that you've been brainwashed- I'll kidnap you."

It was Harry's turn to allow his lips to twitch. It turned into a grimace when Voldemort leaned even closer, reaching out to curl his fingers around his collar. "And there comes a condition with the spying, Harrison."

"Oh?" Harry tried to rear his head as far as he could. "And what's that?"

The fingers tightened. "No assassin work."

Harry pulled himself out of the man's hold. "How did you know about that?" He stood up. The wind picked up, blowing his wavy hair in his glowing eyes as he stared at the Dark Lord- who seemed unaffected by his abrupt movement. He took a deep breath, realizing he was being childish. "I didn't realize you knew about my desire to become an assassin."

It was a sore subject for him. After his father laughed in his face, his desire heightened to become the best damned assassin in the wizarding world.

"You don't think I can do it- do you?" He was cut off as Voldemort stood up, his overpowering height dwarfing Harry. He stepped back, keeping his chin up.

"I have no doubt you could be an assassin, Harrison." His finger shot out and placed itself on his lips. Harry noticed it wasn't really the gesture one would use to make another shut up. Instead, the Dark Lord's finger pad was caressing his bottom lip. Nonetheless, it shut him up quickly. Even if he wanted to speak, he wouldn't be able to. "I would just like you to focus more on making your way into the light side…and school."

Harry dueled Voldemort's gaze. With sure fingers, he encircled the Dark Lord's wrist and pulled his finger down. "But after I gather enough information on the light side, I will look to becoming an assassin."

Voldemort looked rather pleased with himself and Harry became suspicious. "If you have a desire after that, then that is your own choice."

Harry bowed at the waist, backing up slightly. "Thank you, My Lord." He vowed to himself that he would become assassin. But now was not the time. Now he needed to concentrate on the things that needed to be done. "I will send my information to my mother and in turn, she'll send it your way. I want to thank you again for understanding my need not to become marked."

He straightened up; faltering at the intense stare he was getting from Voldemort. Did he say something wrong? But the stare didn't seem to be angry…it looked…lustful. Heat flared in Harry's cheeks but he refused to look away. Yes, he thought the Dark Lord was more than handsome and powerful- everything he would think of to be in his perfect lover. But still, he would never willingly enter in a relationship with Voldemort. The man took in lovers and discarded them quickly that same night. And there were no such things as relationships.

But _could_ he sleep with the Dark Lord?

Hell yes.

He would, but he wouldn't. He could never have any feelings attached with Voldemort. Only respect and loyalty as any follower should feel for their leader. He didn't want to turn out like all those Death Eaters, drooling after Voldemort- wondering when the man would take him to bed again.

Harry was powerful enough to hold his own and actually _give_ something worthwhile to the Dark Lord's cause. Not just a fun night. This is why Harry gave one last nod toward Voldemort and turned his back. "Then I'll see you in the future, My Lord." He was ready to apparate to Blaise Zabini's manor, when a hand shot out to curl rather painfully around his arm.

"I'm not finished with you yet, Harrison." Harry took a deep breath, feeling his heart flutter. The smell of lilacs was so strong, tangled in with another- much weaker smell. It was sweet and he almost drooled. "Why don't you stay with me this summer until your father takes you back?" It was more of a command then a question. "I'm staying at a property on the edge of Wales…"

Harry stepped out of the Dark Lord's hold, feeling a deep hole of emptiness as he did so. "You must understand that once I'm in Dumbledore's grasp, I will stay in that grasp until I am able to run." The more he thought of his relationship with Voldemort as business, the more his confidence returned.

"And I might as well say this before things get more complicated…" he took a deep breath, watching as a light scowl touched Voldemort's lips. "Our relationship…is strictly business. I am your follower and you are my leader. Nothing else. Not that I appreciate your respect… and consideration of speaking with my father."

He was blabbering and the Dark Lord's sneer started to become deeper. He needed to leave, leave those crimson eyes that seemed to look beneath the surface and see everything.

Merlin…

He took a step and cracked away.

Landing rather fluidly near the Zabini's manor, Harry brushed off his robes, feeling restless. It was the best course of action with Voldemort. Tell the man outright he didn't want any…sexual relationship. Because he knew even if he did sleep with the Dark Lord with no emotions involved- he would end up falling hard anyway.

And whenever he fell he always ended up broken on the floor. At least he wouldn't be seeing Voldemort any time soon. Maybe the Dark Lord would forget him entirely in a sexual light.

"Troubled, my dear?" Harry snapped his head up to look at the woman standing across from him. He lost his breath. She was beautiful. He knew it had to be Blaise's mother.

Blaise got his dark coloring from his mother; her skin was flawless and completely smooth. Her high cheekbones stood out and her nose looked prominent. The black hair on her head was silky and pulled back into a French braid. The most startling thing about her appearance was the sharp blue eyes that peaked through the heavy lashes. Not only were the eyes unique but Harry could see the mark on her cheek.

The mark was barely visible, but whenever she moved a certain way, it stood out. It was the mark of the Seer. Black- almost the same color as her skin- and elegantly curved into the design of the Seers. It was beautiful and Harry knew then that Blaise's mother was a full fledged Seer.

Harry lost his breath and took a small bow. "Mrs. Zabini…it's a pleasure to meet you." He felt his nerves slowly start to turn to a calm tranquility.

"I've been waiting so long for you." She stepped forward, her tall height almost as overpowering as Voldemort's. "Of course, I Saw you coming, so my patience was necessary to train you." Harry refused to show his confusion.

"You Saw me coming? As in a vision?"

She gave him a disproving glare. "I should have Seen you coming a long time ago, instead of now. It's very rare to teach a student as old as you are."

"I'm fifteen," Harry pointed out rather dubious.

"Almost sixteen, child. Don't try to fool me." She stepped closer to him and air of calm swept over him. He wondered why it felt so…unnatural to feel calm at this moment. Was she causing him to feel that way? "But you have the ability to become a powerful Seer. You need time and training, something this summer should prove successful with your disownment."

Harry remained calm. She had Seen all this; his disownment, his arrival, maybe his future past this point. Although Harry saw the future, his visions weren't very broad and he definitely didn't have many about himself.

"Look at you, trying to be all emotionless and stoic like your family. You can't hide anything from me, child. I can sense your bitterness and your sadness…" she took a step forward, reaching out to place both hands on the side of his face. A feeling of warmth passed through his chest, pleasing and welcoming. "I can sense the powerful need to _prove_ yourself to anyone who would look at you." She smiled sadly. "Your mother is a wonderful woman, Harry. Why must you be so bitter toward everyone?" He refused to look deeply in her eyes.

"She raised me fine. She raised me perfectly." Harry defended his mother. His mouth may have spoke up in angry defense, but he still felt calm and serene.

"I know she did." She reassured him. "But she didn't help you expand yourself toward others. You may think you're confident, but you have a long way to go before you can even call yourself that. The way you want to prove yourself- you should be happy with what you have." She patted his heart. "Becoming an assassin may get you a certain fearful respect, but you _are_ a Seer. That is who you are. Don't try to be someone who you are not just for others to look at you."

She tilted her head, her blue eyes seeing straight through his soul. "To become a full fledged Seer, you must See your inner soul and See all the faults and try to purify yourself. An assassin is harsh and cold- tainting. You'll have trouble being pure at the same time as training to become a killer."

"You're saying I can never take a life? That I must be pure forever?" Harry stepped back away from her, not wanting to do this anymore. He would kill. Even if he wasn't an assassin, this was war, and he needed to kill in defense and offense.

"No, Harry. You're thinking of purity in the wrong sense. Being pure has nothing to do with sin. When a Seer is pure, they don't lie to themselves. They confront their emotions. Being an assassin will reverse that affect. Assassin's don't have emotions; they need to hide them away." She leaned back on the heels of her feet, clasping her hands in front of her body.

The amused smile on her face made him suspicious. She knew things he didn't. She knew things about his future that he didn't. "Look at me," she started. "I am a full fledged Seer and I kill. I sin. But I am able to confront my emotions- whether it is jealousy, pity, hatred… I am capable of seeing my weakness and strengths. An assassin will never be permitted to have a weakness or feelings."

Harry growled under his breath, raking his fingers through his silky locks. "I understand." He clenched his jaw, looking up at her piercing eyes. That was a quality they shared. They both had piercing, almost glowing eyes. Perhaps that was a trait of a Seer. "But that won't stop me from becoming an assassin."

She grinned again. "I know." It was said softly, surely.

Harry grinned in return, understand her hidden meaning. He would become an assassin. How it would turn out, he wouldn't know.

"You'll train me?" Harry questioned, stepping forth. "I tried finding out about Seers through books. I hadn't turned up with anything besides future seeing."

"Seers are very secretive and powerful creatures, Harry. Do you think we'd have all our secrets spelled out for the lesser humans?" Harry liked this woman.

"I think introductions are in order," Harry held out his hand. "As you know, I'm Harrison. Just Harrison or Harry. And you are?"

Her startling white teeth flashed as she laid her hand on Harry's delicate one. "Welcome to my manor, Harrison. I am your new teacher, Pythia Zabini." Harry lifted her smooth hand and kissed the knuckles.

"Pleasure," Harry purred, and meant it. She was gorgeous and she seemed to have a quirky and devious side to her.

She laughed softly, her laugh musical. "Come now, child. Let's settle you in."

** -SSC- **

Gnarled hands shook as he opened the box. He needed this ring. He needed to see his sister once more. Even if it was for a short time, he needed to apologize…he needed to speak with her.

Quickly, he grabbed it, only to scream.

He watched as a thick black disease crawled up his fingers.

How foolish of him.

There were more enchantments on the ring.

Clutching the ring closer, he fled. He needed Severus.


	7. Lie Cold in the Ground

** Chapter Seven: Lie Cold in the Ground **

"A Seer can sense any emotion from an individual. I hope you, despite your ignorance of your gift, have noticed it easy to read people." Pythia glanced hard at him. Harry looked at Blaise with a tight tension in his lips. The black boy grinned back at him, lounging arrogantly on the grass.

They were settled down in the gardens. When Harry had first stepped foot in the gardens, he felt relaxed and at peace. Gorgeous flowers sprouted beautifully from the ground, not one flaw in any petal or stem. Bright blues and soft yellows ranged from one side with pinks and purples on the other end. There was a small maze which was decorated with dangerous and sharp thorns, but at the base of each thorn laid a startling bright purple flower.

A fountain squirted water. Unlike the fountain at the Malfoy manor, the Zabini's was simple. It didn't have water jets but a slow fall, creating soothing drops in the quiet environment. Harry always enjoys closing his eyes and concentrating on his 'inner soul' while listening to the gentle fall of the water.

At the moment, he was kneeling in front of Blaise and Pythia. Both mother and son looked regal and at home on the ground. Harry marveled at the sight.

"Seers are empathetic. We are aware of everyone individual's emotions and we can _make_ them feel something in return." She gestured at Blaise. "What is he feeling?"

Harry took a deep breath, gazing at Blaise.

If he hadn't spent all day yesterday, Seeing himself and his soul, he would have thought this impossible. But already, he started to become sensitive around people. Granted, the only people here were Blaise and Pythia, but he had found it enlightening that he could sense most of their feelings.

"He's feeling amused," Harry said dryly, narrowing his eyes. "I didn't even need to 'feel' him to know that. He wears his emotions on his face." Blaise's lips twitched and he chuckled lowly.

"Blaise," Pythia warned softly, keeping her bright blue gaze on Harry. She was sitting with her back straight and her hands curled in her lap. "You shouldn't even need to see his face, Harrison." Pythia turned the conversation back on Harry. "Close your eyes. Feel him."

Harry glowered at a smirking Blaise. The boy hadn't even talked to him since he'd gotten there, just quietly observing him. It didn't upset Harry in the least; he was just slightly confused as to why Blaise was still avoiding him.

Closing his eyes, he could still feel the strong amusement from Blaise. But then it turned to something else. At first he felt warmth on his face and then his whole body shuddered. "Excitement," Harry smiled slightly, his eyes still closed.

"Good." Pythia commented and Harry could feel slight smugness from her. "When you get farther in your training, feeling one's emotions will come as easy as breathing. Which is why I'll teach you to shield yourself. You're doing far better than I thought, Harrison."

"All because of you, My Lady." Harry shot back, opening his eyes.

He eyed the mark on her cheek. It was so dark and bold. Yesterday, he had looked in the mirror, only to see a faint outline of the mark on his cheek. It looked gold- the first color in the stage of becoming a full fledged Seer. Next it would turn silver and then black- a shimmering onyx. Being a Seer was an honor. A certain honor that each side of the war would die to have on their side, thus, Harry would be stuck with the black mark on his cheek forever. Seers were proud creatures and would never hide their mark.

However, when a Seer lost their emotions or grasp on their inner soul, the mark would slowly start to fade. Say, Pythia cut off all senses to herself and become completely cold and stoic, the black mark on her cheek would fade and slowly diminish. Of course it could come back, but it was difficulty seeing yourself after you cut ties with your inner soul.

"Seers have complete control over their emotions. Just because we don't show emotion on our face, like a Hufflepuff, doesn't mean we aren't feeling them." Pythia started again, her face expressionless. Harry wasn't fooled; he felt the cool smugness coming off her.

"That, Harrison, is the difference between assassins and Seers. Assassins slowly cut off any real emotion from their body, save for determination and resolve, they have none. Seers have every emotion imaginable inside their minds, they just choose not to show anyone.

"Because we have control over our emotions, we can dictate other's emotions." Here, she glanced at Blaise. "You can make the bitterest man shiver with such heated pleasure, you can make the saddest man laugh with joy, you can create tears for the tearless, and you can create hope to those that live in the shadows…" Her words were passionate and Harry was locked heavily on her words.

"We have such a powerful talent, Harrison. It can be a dangerous and beautiful gift. Not only can we see future and past events, but we can make anyone feel…anything. As long as we have control and possession over that emotion, we can make them feel."

And then he felt a small spark of jealousy. His eyes flickered over to Blaise. Harry's awed attitude slowly diminished as he realized why Blaise had been avoiding him. Simply because Blaise was jealous of him…he wanted to be a Seer.

Harry averted his eyes quickly from Blaise's stoic face.

"What side of the war are Seer's on?" Harry questioned, trying to force as much neutrality in his voice as possible.

Pythia either ignored her son's jealousness or already knew about it and had confronted him earlier. Either way, she gave a secretive smile toward Harry when she answered. "Seer's are completely neutral. They have been for as long as they announced their existence." Harry felt his stomach drop.

Pythia chuckled, leaning in close to his ear. Her breath was sweet and spicy, giving Harry a comforting feeling. Everything about Pythia was relaxed and smug. She was someone Harry knew he wanted to learn from. "But that doesn't stop us. Dumbledore may _think_ us as neutral, but an occasional kill for the Dark Lord's favor can't harm anything, can it? Or a _misinterpreted_ vision could go amiss…"

She leaned back and occupied herself with brushing off the imaginary grass on her dazzling cloak. Harry gave a chuckle, eyes sparkling. Bright blue eyes blinked in his direction.

"Now, where were we?" Blaise cleared his throat softly, bringing Pythia's attention on him. "Ah yes, inflicting feelings and emotions onto others." Harry watched as she pushed her long braid over her shoulder. She reminded him of his own mother when his father and Draco weren't around. He missed Narcissa greatly, but knew this was his time he needed away.

Lucius had written him an owl yesterday, apologizing for his actions and his mistakes. To make matters even more infuriating, he had claimed Harry a Malfoy once again. Harry was no longer disowned from his family. Lucius also asked, rather desperately, if he would come back to the manor. Harry had a feeling his father's actions were just because of Voldemort's overbearing hand.

Harry did write back- a short and sweet letter, explaining that he would not be back this summer. But he would make an appearance at Draco and his ball just because his mother wanted him there.

But just because he was going to the ball didn't mean Harry forgave Lucius. Why not make his father suffer and then see if he still wanted Harry afterward? He had only agreed to arrive at the ball if he was allowed to bring a guest or two. And he knew one guest that would make Lucius' teeth grind.

Ginny Weasley. Any Weasley would do, but Ginny had an overbearing crush on him…and his father _hated_ Weasley's.

Harry smirked but then snapped his attention toward Pythia as she started patting Blaise's arm. "Blaise has volunteered to be our scapegoat. Try to enforce a feeling on him."

Grimacing, Harry stared at the dark eyes of Blaise. "And how do I do that?"

Pythia gave a nonchalant shrug. "Seers have an air around them. They exude any emotion they wish onto their victims. Take a remembrance of the emotion you wish your victim to feel. Remember how good or bad it felt, remember what you were feeling during that time…"

Harry took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "No, your eyes open." Pythia's voice broke through. "If we're going to do this, we're going to do this right. A Seer must stand tall and show no indication their enforcing their victim to feel. Soon, with practice, you'll be able to dictate a crowd's emotion." A malicious smile stretched the corner of her lips. "Perhaps create a panic among the crowd…or put your victim to sleep…"

She paused. "When you become a full fledged Seer, sometimes you may go through a crisis, such as a death or a painful incident. Unconsciously, your feelings will give off like rays and make those around you feel what you're feeling. It's unstoppable…but misery loves company." Blaise threw his mother a spiteful grin, a feeling of understanding coming off him.

Once Pythia quieted down, Harry thought back to the suffocating feeling he felt with Lucius. The pain and the disappointment he felt at his father's words. He could almost feel it now…

"Control your facial expressions, Harry." Pythia whispered. Harry found himself squinting and frowning and altered his face into an emotionless mask.

Bright, glowing, green eyes watched Blaise's cool expression falter into a deep frown. The black boy started to breathe heavily, his eyes filming over with tears.

Harry lost control, awed by the impact he had on Blaise. "How…" he started. "Wouldn't someone like Dumbledore know I'm enforcing alien feelings?" This power was so very special…he loved it.

"Not many people know of a Seer's power to influence emotions and feelings. A great majority, most people, only think we can see the future. The ones that do know of our powers need to have a very strong mind frame to pinpoint their emotion coming from us. Someone like Dumbledore needs to have a small coaxing before you do something severe. Calm emotions work on him and other nonchalant ones settle his nerves…if you'd like to create havoc on his mind, it will take him quite some time to throw you off."

Harry nodded, flashing Blaise a smile. The black boy glowered, his emotionless mask back on his face.

** -SSC- **

"I understand now. Why you avoid me..." Harry spoke to Blaise's back, finally catching the boy after two whole days.

He had just got out of bed and wandered out his room. He was feeling restless tonight, especially when his locket kept giving off angry and dark emotions. This had never happened before, but he assumed it was because he was getting deeper in his Seer training. But even when he wasn't a semi full fledged Seer, he had felt protective vibes coming off the golden locket…not possessiveness and angry.

As he stumbled quietly out of his dark room, he caught a glimpse at Blaise's retreating back.

Tomorrow he was going to Dumbledore. Doubtless he would be staying with Pythia; but he wanted to confront Blaise tonight just in case Dumbledore forced him away from Pythia.

"Took you long enough." The black boy turned around. Eyes adjusting to the dark, Harry figured Blaise wasn't really that boy he remembered. He had grown into a startling handsome young man.

"No," Harry shut his door quietly and came closer to Blaise. "I noticed right after first year. You always avoided me. Now I know it's because you want to be a Seer. Like your mother."

Blaise's white teeth seemed to glow as they snapped into a smile. "There is one reason, but I've gotten over that small quirk long ago. Being a Seer isn't all lovey dovey. I watched countless of times as my mother took on husbands who were fated to die. She _knew_ how they would die, she Saw it. And yet, she decided to open her heart to them and become attached. She took them in to try to prevent those deaths, but each time she failed, she was broken. I felt her pain…I can't live like that."

Harry heard all about Pythia's legacy of dieing husbands and her gathering their possessions after their death. There was speculation that she killed them- but hearing this from Blaise made Harry understand all those assumptions were wrong. Far from the truth.

He felt miserable at hearing that. Even if Pythia Saw their deaths- she couldn't stop even stop them after the visions. What if he saw his mother die before it happened? Could he even stand a chance at stopping it?

"But that's not the whole reason I've avoided you." Blaise took an advancing step forward, gaining height over Harry. "You're very attractive, Harrison." Harry's eyes widened. "I've never seen someone as beautiful and gorgeous as you. Your beauty shadows everyone…they can't hold a flame to you. Merlin, everything about you looks as if it were sculptured from the Gods."

Blood rushed to his cheeks and Blaise grinned, probably seeing the red on Harry's cheeks. "I don't understand," Harry started. "You avoid me because I'm…attractive in your eyes?"

"My mother had a vision."

Silence stretched between them. Harry held his breath, watching as Blaise inched closer. His lips were so plump and perfect…Harry had trouble looking away and into the dark eyes.

"I can't get close to you or I'll fall for you. And she Saw who you were destined to be with. I am far too chicken to stand in his way."

"Voldemort," Harry whispered the name. His chest gave a tight squeeze and butterflies fluttered in his stomach.

Blaise grinned in spite. "He will stop at nothing to get you, Harry. Don't underestimate him just because he sees you as an ally. The man is dangerous. He'll destroy anyone in his path to you. Anyone. He'll try every underhanded trick to annihilate them just so he has you. He's the Slytherin heir…even if your significant lover leaves you for what seems like natural reason- it'll be his deceitful and sly moves that make them leave." Harry didn't understand why, but he was incredibly excited and…aroused at the words.

"Voldemort and I…" Harry started, with a small laugh. "I…I don't want to be with him, we can never be together."

Blaise raised his eyebrows, never backing away. "Actually, I think you two will keep each other on your toes. You're the only one who can challenge the Dark Lord like that and he challenges you."

Harry shook his head, hating those words. "Voldemort-,"

"That doesn't mean you can't make him chase you, Harry." Green eyes zeroed in on Blaise's smirking lips. "Make him _feel._ He thinks he can gain possession of you with a few quick seductions. He doesn't feel anything…make him want you, make him _burn_ for you. A challenge is something he's always wanted- make him work to get you."

"I didn't know you were so poetic, Zabini." Harry said dryly, amused.

"I try," Blaise backed away slightly but Harry shot out and curled his fingers around the taller boy's collar. He tugged Blaise closer and placed his lips near the boy's ear.

"I can guarantee you I won't give in easily." His breath seemed to tickle Blaise, for the boy's skin raised in bumps.

Blaise turned his face, their lips inches away. "You know I would love to be with you…" Blaise's voice was husky and Harry could feel the arousal.

"He'll never have to know." Harry suggested slyly, letting Blaise's collar go.

"He has eyes everywhere."

"He doesn't possess me, Blaise. Never think so low of me to allow him to own me like a piece of property."

"Oh, Malfoy, I know." Blaise slowly started to back away. "But that won't stop him from wanting you. Dark Lord's aren't known for being lenient with sharing." Before Harry could say anything back, Blaise disappeared in the dark of the hallway.

Harry huffed, hating and loving that Voldemort and him ended up together. But Blaise didn't say _when,_ and Harry was content to know it could be decades from now. And this knowledge wouldn't stop Harry from hating relationships…and Voldemort's sexual personality. The man probably slept with his whole inner circle by now.

Disgusting.

And to know his father and…

"No, Harry…don't go there." An unfathomable grimace deepened his lips.

His fingers unconsciously grabbed his locket. Before he knew it, his head seemed to grow larger and the walls seemed to fall away from him.

He knew he was about to have a vision. Pythia had discussed this with him. She had told him he could resist visions, but it would be painful. If he were doing something dangerous or perhaps unable to go away from reality, he could resist the visions coming to him. There would be a painful thud in his head and the only way to relieve the pain was by viewing the vision as soon as possible when he had a chance.

Harry groaned, leaning against the wall that seemed to shudder in place. He tried to resist the vision…he really did, but the pain in his head was far too much.

Maybe next time he'd work on it.

Now, he was whisked away. The wall fell behind him and he spiraled downward, landing painfully on his arse in a classroom.

"Bloody hell," he rubbed his head, becoming relieved with the absence of his headache. Once he looked around the classroom, he noticed it was a professor's office. Rather homey and there were a few chairs set up in front of the large chair that seemed to look like a thrown. Harry sneered.

Turning his eyes to the front of the room, he faltered. A handsome boy in Slytherin robes was coming closer to him. The dark eyes seemed to be boring straight into him, setting him on edge. The boy was very handsome…he looked a lot like…

"Tom?" Harry whispered softly. He understood now. This was a vision from the past. He could tell now- everything was so clear and vivid. Visions from the future were far more blurry and choppy.

He had seen Tom before when he had been younger, but never this year. It looked as if he were in sixth year.

Boys were piling out of the office, sending wistful glances toward Tom. The young Dark Lord paid no heed to them and continued deeper into the office. The way Tom moved was graceful and so sure of himself. Harry eyed the glittering ring on his finger, wondering about it. His thoughts were shattered when Tom swept straight through him.

Harry shivered, closing his eyes for just a second until he had to turn around and watch the proceedings. There was a man behind the desk. He was short- probably the same height as Harry- if not a little taller, and he was plump. He had hay colored hair with a balding spot and a mustache. He was dressed richly with a velvet vest and golden buttons.

The man whirled around as he set down the tea tray and started when he saw Tom.

"Tom," his voice was gruff but his eyes sparkled when they turned to the Dark Lord. "You should be careful, it's past curfew. Being a Prefect and all-,"

"I have something to ask you, Professor Slughorn." Harry stared at the Prefect badge on Voldemort's chest.

"Ask away, my boy."

Harry's deep stare turned up to Tom's pensive face. "Do…do you know anything about Horcruxes?" Harry had never heard of the term. Glancing at the Professor, he assumed the man knew- for his face turned a ghastly white and his fingers twitched.

"Horcruxes, Tom? That's very Dark magic…" Harry was intrigued and he watched as Tom straightened up, an air of causality coming across.

"I was reading and I came across the term. I didn't fully understand its meaning. Looking deeper into the subject, there were no books that explained such a thing."

Slughorn gave a nervous chuckle. "Hogwarts library is indeed lacking on information for the above average wizard." Slughorn agreed softly. "Or the Lord level wizard." Harry blinked, realizing Voldemort had repeated those words to him just the other day. "But Horcruxes... that's Dark stuff, Tom. Dark stuff indeed…"

Harry knew the man was starting to get flustered and he would probably end up not telling Tom what he sought after. Tom must have realized this, for his face turned into an innocent mask, slightly nervous. Tom was anything but nervous. Harry could feel the excitement coming off him in waves.

"I- I thought I'd ask you, sir. I mean a wizard like you would surely know- obviously if you can't tell me- I thought you'd know, sir. So-," Harry smirked at Tom's seemingly flustered and innocent face. The boy was playing with the professor and quite successfully too.

Slyly, Harry watched Slughorn sigh and lean forward. "I don't think it'd hurt if I tell you a quick synopsis…" His pudgy fingers played with his chipped tea cup. "A Horcrux is indeed Dark." Harry could almost see Tom's eyes roll into his head in annoyance. But the boy kept his face expectant. "It's an object…" Slughorn took a deep breath. "It's an object in which one would conceal their soul inside."

Harry watched as Tom's dark eyes seemingly flashed red in hunger. "And how would someone go about doing that? I don't understand."

"Well, a wizard could break off a piece of his soul, split it, and place it into an object of their choice. Then, even if one's body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. But of course, existence in such a form…" Slughorn shuddered. "You're hardly human."

Green eyes watched as Tom stared at his ring upon his finger with a gleeful and obsessive look. Could Tom really place his soul inside an object such as a ring?

"How do you split your soul?" Tom asked the same question Harry was thinking.

"The very act one would consider the greatest sin of all time." Slughorn looked up at Tom. "Committing murder. He would encase the torn portion-,"

"But how would one encase?"

"There is a spell, do not ask me!" Slughorn shuddered and shook his head angrily. Harry raised his eyebrows watching as Tom licked his lips hungrily.

"I apologize; I didn't mean to offend you." _Sure as hell he didn't._ Harry thought smugly. "But…just say one would split his soul. Wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces. I mean, isn't seven the most powerfully magical number-,"

Seven? Harry grimaced and then his heart skipped a beat as he fingered the locket across his neck.

"Seven?" Slughorn stood up abruptly, his eyes flashing. "Isn't it bad enough to think of killing _one_ person? To divide the soul that much…" Slughorn shook his head heatedly. "You would become monster-,"

Harry was slowly being drawn away, watching as Tom altered his face to complete understanding.

Jumping back into the Zabini manor, Harry found himself on the floor, breathing heavily and twitching. Seven Horcruxes. Voldemort had seven Horcruxes- which is why he was able to survive the killing curse being rebounded of Neville. Which is why Voldemort may be so cruel and…but he wasn't. Harry frowned. Voldemort may be cruel and Dark but he didn't act as if his soul was split seven times.

Harry started to hyperventilate. But it was true. Merlin, the locket around his neck was Lord Voldemort's bloody Horcrux. It had a mind of its own…it had feelings.

"Why?" Harry sat up and slammed the back of his head against the wall. "Why did he give it to _me_?"

And then Harry knew Voldemort's one weakness. Voldemort had a fear of dying. But why would the Dark Lord entrust Harry with his soul if he were so worried? It made goose bumps go up his arms and the prospect of Tom wanting him to have it.

He needed to go see Voldemort. No matter what time of the night it was, he needed to see Voldemort and give the locket back. He would be going to Dumbledore tomorrow…and who knew- the old man might sense it.

Harry got up in a hurry, throwing on a cloak. His face in the depths of his hood was pale; he didn't wish to have Voldemort see such vulnerability. He had to confront the man…to get answers.

Being that he _was_ a Malfoy once again, he stepped and apparated into the Malfoy manor.

Standing in the foyer, he waited patiently, knowing his mother would be the first to rush downstairs.

Taking a deep breath, he composed himself.

The locket on his chest was the heaviest burden he had ever carried.


	8. Undress in the Dark

** Chapter Eight: Undress in the Dark **

"Harrison?" As he guessed, his mother came down first. Her hair was flying behind her and she had a worried expression on her face. "Is everything alright?" Nimble fingers clutched her dressing robe tighter around herself as she came up to Harry.

As predicted, Lucius came after her with a much calmer pace. Despite it being the middle of the night, his hair was in place and his dressing gown seemed crisp with no wrinkles.

"Harrison?" Lucius repeated his wife's words.

There was a tense air between the two and Harry wasn't in the mood to discuss anything. Narcissa reached over and pulled down his hood, caressing his cheek. Unfortunately, it was the cheek where his dark silver mark laid.

"You're a Seer?" Lucius asked, his grey eyes widening. Narcissa smiled, beaming.

"Now is not the time to discuss such things." Harry muttered, staring at his father. Even if he was away for no more than three and a half days, he felt as if he had grown far more independent and confident. He looked at his father like an equal, not as a parent he wanted to please. "I need your help," he refused to call Lucius by. "I need to see the Dark Lord, now."

Lucius raised a cool eyebrow. "The Dark Lord? I thought…" he glanced at Narcissa. "I thought you wanted to become an assassin…" mercury grey eyes then landed on the mark on his cheek. "You're a Seer?" he repeated again, almost stupidly. "How is that possible?"

Harry smirked, his green eyes bright. "Does it bother you, father? That I am a Seer and Draco isn't? I can see the future…I can see the outcome of the war." Really, he couldn't- at least not yet- but it was fun to watch his father's face turn green.

"Harrison," Lucius started, coming closer. "We need to talk about-,"

"I need to see the Dark Lord. Now." Harry ordered. "I know you know of his whereabouts. He resides in a manor on the coast of Wales- I just need you to get me there."

Lucius looked at Narcissa who stepped away from Harry. "Bring him, Lucius."

The blonde aristocrat gave a soft sigh. "Let me get my cloak and mask."

Harry watched through lowered lids as Lucius swept toward the cloak room. "Is there something I can do, Harrison?" Narcissa came back and swept back his wavy hair. He closed his eyes, bathing in his mother's love. He had missed her dearly. "I've missed you." She leaned down to press a kiss to his cheek, the one that was slowly tarnishing in color to his final stage of Seer.

Pythia had been proud of his results. It didn't take long to become a full fledged Seer, but he was doing extraordinary. And it was all because of her good teachings and being able to look at his inner soul.

"I've missed you also, mother." He turned and looked up at her, coming to about her shoulder. "But its time I do this by myself."

Narcissa didn't seem sad in the least. Instead, Harry could feel pride seep through her, as bright as the morning sun. "You've grown to be such a powerful young man, Harrison. Never forget that. Its time you fly solo." She swept his hair once more and stepped away as Lucius entered.

Harry watched Lucius fiddle with the silver mask of the Death Eater and approach him. "You are ready?" Harry nodded, reaching out a hand. Lucius encircled his wrist with his fingers and cracked away. Only Malfoy's were allowed to apparate and disparate inside the manor. For the first time in days, Harry was glad he was a Malfoy.

They arrived in front of a normal looking mansion. It was covered in shadows and the moon seemed to avoid casting light upon it. The mansion was on a cliff, being sprayed by the clashing waves below. Harry thought it needed lightning to make the scene even more sinister. There were no lights on inside, but he was sure Lord Voldemort wasn't sleeping. He had too much to do.

"Come on," Lucius instructed, approaching the wards that seemed to glitter. Harry observed as his father pulled up his sleeve, baring his Dark Mark. Lucius pressed his left forearm into the wards and stepped back. Harry was at his shoulder, watching as the wards sparked and allowed a small opening for his father. "You go through first."

Harry scrambled gracefully through, feeling his father hot on his heels. "That's the only defense he has?" Harry questioned with disbelief. What if someone bribed a Death Eater to slip through? It was hardly any defense.

Lucius smirked. "No, the next one is coming." There was a pause. "Duck," Harry widened his eyes, falling to the ground as a curse fired and almost singed his hair.

Harry watched his father stand up effortless. He remained on the ground. "Are you certain there aren't any more…?" Harry scrambled up, looking ridiculous.

"At the door one must swear not to harm the Dark Lord by piercing their finger and dropping a bit of blood in the ground." Lucius walked up the long staircase. Harry eyed the growing vines coming out of the ground near the stairs. He was so preoccupied with watching a vine move on its own accord near his father's feet that he didn't see the one near his own foot. It grabbed his ankle and jerked.

Harry yelped as he went down hard on the stone steps and rolled down them. He landed painfully at the bottom step, his bottom lip bleeding from being forcibly bitten. "Harrison!" Lucius turned and hurried down and crouched near Harry's struggling form with the vine.

" _Reducto_ ," Harry spat out, pointing his wand at the vine. The plant snapped in half and seemed to scream as it went back into the ground- defeated. Harry glowered at his father and got up on his own. "I'm fine." He saw Lucius' amused smirk on his face. "You think it's funny that I fell almost two stories?"

Lucius gave one last lift of his lips and turned back up the stairs. "You're fine, aren't you? At least you know the Dark Lord has more defenses than just one."

Harry huffed, scowling. The Dark Lord should trim the damned vines. He would have to discuss _that_ with the man after the Horcrux chat.

As they climbed the stairs; Harry had his wand out, waiting for one of the vines to make an appearance again. They seemed to shrink back as he climbed higher and higher. Lucius lost his vibe of amusement and it turned to nerves and respect…perfect little Death Eater behavior for his Lord. Harry never understood how someone as proud as Lucius could bend his neck so much.

They stopped at the large wooden door. Harry threw a wary glance at the skull hanging near the door, holding a torch. It was real. Of course Tom would go for something so…gothic and harsh.

Lucius grabbed a sharp needle from a holder near the door and pricked his finger. A drop of his blood fell to the floor, staining the doorstep- joining numerous of other drops. The drops on the floor all varied with the color red. Lucius' blood was bright red, staining a part of unmarked concrete. "Lucius Malfoy," he muttered, passing the pin to Harry.

"What happens if we do attack the Dark Lord?" Lucius raised his eyebrows. "Just out of curiosity of course."

"They die on the Dark Lord's word. Instantly."

Harry gave a grimace and accepted the used needle. Just how many people have used this? And not just _any_ people- but crazy Death Eaters? He sterilized the needle with a wave of his wand, earning a goaded look from his father. He shrugged, piercing his finger. The blood swelled. "Harrison…" he looked at his father and said rather bitterly, "Malfoy."

He tipped his finger, watching as the blood stained with the rest of the other droplets. The doorstep seemed to ripple with light and then turn back to normal.

As soon as he handed the needle back to his father, the door creaked open eerily. They stepped through, looking around. If it wasn't so dark in here, Harry would think it was gorgeous…but it was dark and full of dust. Sofa's had white sheets thrown over them and the wooden floor was layered with dust. Footprint outlines were present on the floor, most of them going up the stairs and some of them going downward.

The wood in the house was dark and old and seemed to creak with each step they took. "Peachy," Harry simpered. And Lord Voldemort really wanted him to stay here for the bloody summer?

"The Dark Lord does not care for such trivial things as décor." Lucius announced, brushing past a seemingly starving house elf.

"I couldn't tell. He needs a bloody wife." Harry responded dryly, following his father up the staircase coated with dust and old crimson carpet. He eyed the house elves, seeing their eyes glow in the dark as they watched their decent up the stairs. "Shouldn't they warn the Dark Lord before we enter his rooms?"

Lucius looked over toward the 'they' and scoffed. "The Dark Lord knew we were here as soon as we stepped foot near his property." Harry nodded, seeing the sense in that. The Dark Lord wouldn't just allow visitors like this without being alerted himself.

His hands reached out and touched the railing, pulling back when the dust seemed to pile up on his fingers. Disgusting. Being raised in the Malfoy manor was a spoil for him. Never once did he see a speck of dust, all thanks to the house elves.

They reached the top of the floor and went down the small corridor. It was lined with the tacky red carpet again…it wasn't really carpet- but a flat rug. Harry could see light underneath the door at the end of the corridor. The door suddenly opened and out stepped Bellatrix. Harry faltered. She was wearing a rather low cut dress and her skin was sweating. Her mass of hair was messy on top of her head.

Harry took a deep breath, knowing that Tom _was_ a playboy and a seducer. It didn't bother him- it just fueled his resolve never to give into Voldemort's advances.

"Harrison!" She squealed, clapping her hands like a child. "I am _so_ glad you're here. You'll make things much more fun around here." Harry tried to stay calm, considering true excitement was coming off Bellatrix in waves…but then he felt something he had never felt before coming off Bella. He knew it was insanity.

Behind Bellatrix, her husband, Rodolphus came out- just as sweaty and messy as his wife.

What was it- a bloody orgy?

Harry grinded his teeth- vowing to escape as soon as he discussed Voldemort's Horcrux around his neck and return it. Lucius sighed softly, pushing past Bella. "My Lord, my son requested your audience. I apologize for coming with no notice." Harry watched his father enter, but was distracted when Bella attacked him with a hug.

His face was buried uncomfortably in her breasts and he gagged. Rodolphus, the wiry man, leaned against the wall- heckling. His cracked teeth seemed to almost be falling form his gums. "Bella- you hag- let the poor boy go."

She hissed in her husband's direction, still clutching Harry. He tried to pull out of her hold, but found her grasp far too tight. "I'm so _happy_ Lucius didn't disown you, baby. End up on the streets and I'd kill him. Poor Cissy- she was devastated…"

"Bella," Voldemort's voice sounded through the halls- silky and seductive as ever. Bella tensed and shivered while Harry could feel her arousal and admiration. "Bring my young follower inside…"

She pulled back, happily to oblige her Lord, and gasped. "A Seer?" Black eyes narrowed on his cheek. She rubbed his mark, aggravating Harry even more. "First a Parselmouth now a Seer?" She squealed, pulling Harry inside the room with her arms around him.

Harry wished he was cruel enough to push her on the ground and step free of her arms, but he couldn't do that to Bella- no matter how annoyed he was of her. "My Lord, a Seer in your service!" She pushed him into the room, making him stumble on his own. Automatically, he started to sweat from the heat.

The fireplace was blazing and the room seemed to be at least eighty degrees inside.

He wondered why. Looking at Voldemort, he got a small flutter in his stomach once again- but it died down with the cool assessment the man was giving him. There was no exciting look from the Dark Lord like he received the last time he saw the man…

But Merlin, he was so handsome.

Harry kept his face emotionless as he gave a slight bow toward Voldemort. Crimson eyes stared at the mark upon his cheek. "You let your child wander without tracking his movements, Lucius?" Harry clenched his jaw, hearing the possessiveness in his voice. "At the Zabini's, I gather. She has a son your age, does she not?"

Harry snapped his chin up. "And we've been fucking every moment possible."

Silence stung the air and Lucius sucked in a breath, forcing his forehead on the ground in a bow. Bella burst out laughing- as did her husband at her side. Voldemort didn't look amused. Instead, Harry felt the hot anger coming off him.

Giving Tom a twisted smile, Harry cocked his head to the side. "It was a joke, My Lord. Blaise and I haven't seen each other…for my time is occupied with learning the way of the Seer. I apologize if I offended you… in anyway."

"I find your jokes rather humorless." Voldemort hissed out, causing Bella to stop laughing suddenly.

Voldemort was dressed heavily in the room- a black winter cloak downing his thin body. He was elegantly sitting in an overstuffed arm chair, sipping on a glass of bloody red wine. His hair was tied at the nape of his neck, not one bead of sweat on his face from the heat. Harry wondered why he was so cold. Perhaps- maybe crazily- he was doing it to force Bella away from him.

"I apologize," Harry stated again, not in the least sorry. "But, if I may, My Lord, I need to discuss something with you privately."

The Dark Lord stared at him. Harry caught a brief glimpse of the young Tom Riddle. How poised and charming he was, yet dark and dangerous. He could charm anyone near him and stab them in the back as they batted their eyelashes or licked his boots.

"I think you and I have no personal discussions to talk about." His pale hand motioned toward the Lestrange's and Lucius. "They may remain here for what you have to say." He sipped his wine, a gleeful spark inside the crimson eyes.

It was payback.

Harry understood why the cold shoulder now. It was because he refused to stay here when the Dark Lord seemed to order it.

Harry gave a sigh, unbuttoning his outer cloak. Crimson eyes zeroed in on the movement. Harry was slightly taken aback on how obsessed Tom was of him. It didn't make much sense. After all, the Dark Lord was about fifty years older than himself and Harry was still in school. Was this normal? Did the Dark Lord always seduce young boys? The Tom Riddle he saw in his past visions were nothing like this. The Tom Riddle he knew wouldn't show his obsession or emotions.

He paused in his unbuttoning and faltered as Voldemort sipped his wine, keeping his eyes on Harry's exposed chest.

Behind him, Lucius cleared his throat, sensing the awkwardness. "I'm sure you can discuss whatever you need to in front of us, Harrison." Harry stepped backward, his eyes locked on Voldemort. His father reached up and grabbed his wrist, pulling him down on the sofa next to him and Bellatrix. "We would never tell anyone outside this room."

Harry gave a deep sigh, glancing at the raging fire. Was it a mistake to come here? As much as he played with the idea of giving the Horcrux to Dumbledore, he would never. Ever. He was on Voldemort's side, no matter how arrogant the man was.

"So Harrison," Bellatrix rotated her body in his direction. A large smile crossed her lips, showing off her rotten teeth. Harry took a quick glimpse at her, staring moodily across the room. She looked as if she was once a beautiful woman. But with the long years in Azkaban, it wasn't a surprise her beauty had tarnished. "What year are you entering this September?"

"Sixth," he replied grumpily, ready to leave. When Voldemort was set on being stubborn, nothing could budge him.

"Your mother tells me you are quite the charmer in Hogwarts, a little Slytherin Prince." Her long fingernails brushed away his silky strands of hair.

"Slytherin Prince," Voldemort remarked, smirking over his wine glass. " _Little_ Slytherin Prince, I like that, Bella." Beneath his lowered lids, Harry watched as Bellatrix got flustered and humble. It was disgusting. "Don't you like that, my little Slytherin Prince?"

Harry didn't respond. Lucius reached over and squeezed his elbow. "It's rather long," Harry remarked. He turned his head away from Voldemort's piercing eyes and looked up at Lucius. "I think we should go-,"

" _You will look at me when I talk to you_." Harry sighed deeply, feeling the raw emotion of ownership from Voldemort. The man was a complete idiot when it came to seducing _him_. He was a King of seduction when it came to everyone else but him…why the hell was that? Glowing green eyes stared levelly at the Dark Lord. _"Total disrespect, child. It does not suit you._ "

" _I need to speak to you alone…"_ Harry hissed back in Parseltongue, feeling his father tense beside him. It felt odd speaking in snake tongue to someone, he hadn't done if since his first year when a snake was conjured up accidentally in his dorm room.

Voldemort smirked, leaning back against his chair, cool as ever. "When are you going to Dumbledore, child?" Red eyes taunted him, showing him who was in charge. "Are you going to warm your way deeper into Longbottom's heart? Or…" Voldemort cocked his head slightly, dark hair falling in his face. "Don't you call him by his given name?"

Bellatrix screeched, grimacing. "Please don't go to that lot, Harrison." Her talons clutched his arms, piercing his skin. "They are _nasty_ rodents who'll get their rightful end." She pasted a sickly smile on her face, turning to the Dark Lord. "Do we really need a spy, My Lord?" Harry nibbled on his tongue, staring blankly at Rodolphus, who happened to be sitting across from him.

"I'm going tomorrow morning." Harry said shortly. "And Neville and I have had a decent relationship through the years. I won't need to _warm_ my way too much…it's Headmaster Dumbledore who I need to earn the trust of." He glanced numbly at his father, his tone void of any emotion. This meeting was hell. "I'll use my father's disownment as a good stepping stone." Doubtless Lucius put him back in the Malfoy family, but Dumbledore would know Harry didn't want to be with Lucius again after the disownment.

Voldemort leaned forward, his eyes telling Harry he was going to say something scathing once again. He braced himself. "Perhaps you and Longbottom can grow _very_ fond of each other. As I've heard, he has a hero complex- he'll want to save his little Slytherin if you are kidnapped by the Dark Lord. Isn't that right?" It was the possessive tone again and Harry stood up, having enough.

" _You tell me just days ago you want to court me properly to your side."_ Harry hissed angrily, his fingers reaching for the chain around his neck. _"And here you are, digging me into the ground with the heel of your boot. Total disrespect, Tom, it does not suit you."_ He threw the words back at the Dark Lord, enjoying as crimson eyes dilated at the given name.

Harry ripped the chain off his neck, throwing the Horcrux at the Dark Lord. "You can keep that if you'd like. I want _nothing_ to do with it." He paused, watching as Voldemort stared at it and then up at him, a furious expression on his face. "After all, it'll be in better hands. Who knows, Headmaster might treat me better than the scum on his shoe and you wouldn't want me to have the locket if I choose to stay with him." Throwing his father one last glance, he tore out of the room.

How could Pythia have seen Voldemort and him together? It was laughable. The only way Harry would end up with Voldemort would be if the man tortured him into insanity.

His steps were silent as they climbed down the dusty staircase. Angrily, he swiped his hand down the banister, blowing a thick cloud of dust in the air.

Before he could reach the bottom step, a cold chain went around his neck, cutting off his air and holding him in place. Voldemort had come behind him with the locket in his hands and wrapped it around his neck in a tight noose.

Harry spluttered, his hands automatically going up to the chain around his throat- trying to pull at it. His breathing came out in shrill gasps. Voldemort hissed in laughter, keeping the noose tight and slamming Harry against the wall. Harry's cheek was pressed against the musty wall with Voldemort pressed roughly at his back. Even in his suffocating state- he could feel the anger, arousal, and amusement coming from Voldemort. His feet didn't touch the floor but Voldemort's pelvic region held his body against the wall, anchoring him and holding him in place.

"You are going to be the death of me, my little Slytherin." Harry gasped, tears blinding his eyes. The chain was tight enough to allow some air through but difficult for him to breath. "Just when I thought I have the upper hand with you, you go and turn it around."

"Ba-bastard." Harry wheezed out.

The Dark Lord bent his head low and traced his nose down Harry's cheek.

For a bizarre moment, Harry realized that Voldemort and he were…well…made for each other. Both of them had short tempers and always got what they wanted. They were both smart and easily seductive and into the dark arts. And they both smelt like wild lilacs. If they ever did get together, which was doubtful, things wouldn't always be sappy…things would be rough and challenging- like this.

Harry hissed as Voldemort tightened the chain around his neck. "I hate it when someone disregards my orders. I wanted you to stay here this summer…" The chain loosened and Harry took a deep breath, huffing. "But I apologize for the way I acted toward you tonight." The chain left him entirely and Voldemort backed away.

Harry stumbled; about to fall down the steps with the sudden disappearance of Voldemort's body, but the Dark Lord placed a solid hand on his small shoulder.

Growling, Harry knocked off the man's hand and jumped down the last few steps of the stairs and turned to look up at the emotionless Voldemort. The three Death Eaters upstairs hadn't come down and Harry expected Voldemort ordered them to stay up there.

"You apologize? For almost strangling me?" Harry rubbed his sore neck, just _knowing_ there would be a visible mark appearing soon.

"No," Voldemort denied simply. "No, you deserved the strangling for acting so childish among the others. Pouting, Harrison? It's unlike you." The Dark Lord slowly came down the stairs, the locket swinging back in forth between his long fingers.

"I wasn't pouting," Harrison refused to back down, choosing to raise his chin in defiance. "I just noticed I wasn't being treated the way I should have been. I _am_ powerful. My father may not know that, Hogwarts might not know that, but you and I both do. I prefer not to have Bellatrix or the others in that room look down on me because of the way you treat me…like a small child."

"Contrary to popular belief, you _are_ a small child."

Harry snapped his teeth in a growl. "I may only be fifteen, but I have maturity beyond my years."

Voldemort gave him a snarky grin. "Which is why you should take my apology and accept it."

Harry blinked and cocked his head to the side, understanding the man's words. "You're right, of course." By now the Dark Lord came to a stop in front of him. Now that they got that settled…his eyes landed on the Horcrux. "I don't want that back." The green emeralds on the cursive 'S' glittered back at him, mocking and taunting him.

"Wherever did you get the idea that I gave you this?" Voldemort's spidery hands held out the locket to him. Harry refused to take it; instead he gazed at the man intensely. Crimson eyes glittered, a smirk playing the man's lips as the Dark Lord took back the locket, pocketing it.

"I'll tell you what, child." The Dark Lord purred. "You stay with me the rest of the night and I'll tell you what you yearn to hear. But only if you stay."

Harry took a deep breath, glancing at the dusty house. "There will not be any physical contact between us, correct?" Harry asked smartly, tilting his head to look up at Tom. "Because-,"

"If you're worried about being aroused, Harrison, you need not to worry. I'll save that for another night." Voldemort took his question as a positive and turned to make his way gracefully up the stairs. Harry raised an eyebrow and followed the man behind.

Would Tom really explain about the Horcrux? Truthfully?

Only time would tell.


	9. You Want Me

** Chapter Nine: You Want Me **

Wood cracked from the intense heat of the fire, sending sparks into the air. Tea steamed and sugar cubes glistened.

Two pairs of eyes dueled.

Harry was sitting as far away from Voldemort as he could, watching the man cautiously. They had sent all the Death Eaters out of the manor long ago and neither of them had spoken to one another. The smaller wizard was nursing a cup of tea, glaring at the blood red wine the Dark Lord sported. It was if the man mocked his age, taunting him.

"You need to trim your weeds," Harry started the conversation, breaking first. The only reason he gave in before the man across form him was because he was starting to get tired and the prospect of where to sleep was nagging at him.

The Dark Lord raised and eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

Looking at the imposing figure, Harry wasn't afraid. The man was emotionless as of now and Harry wondered if wizards as powerful as Dumbledore and Voldemort could hide their feelings from Seers. "Your damned vines outside, near the steps- you need to get them under control."

Crimson eyes lightened. "Take a fall down them, love?" Harry sneered as Voldemort chuckled darkly. "Clumsy child," Voldemort tisked. Taking another sip from his wine, he closed his eyes- as if pleased with everything; pleased with the blazing fire, pleased with the wine…and most of all, pleased with Harry's presence.

The lines of tension around his face seemed to relax, Harry noted. "Excuse me. _I_ didn't fall down them; _they_ wrapped around my ankle and pulled _me_ down." Harry pouted, glowering at his tea. "Can't I get some wine? I would have never known that the most powerful Dark Lord in history would actually care about drinking ages…"

"When it comes to you, child…" Voldemort kept his eyes closed; an amused smile on his face. "I look after your limits."

"Really?" Harry wondered. "And here I thought you would prefer to get me tipsy." It was said quietly, almost muttering, but an upturn of the man's lips proved Voldemort heard him clearly.

"I don't need alcohol to make you submit to me, Harrison." Crimson eyes slit open just barely. "Besides, I know you. You would never allow your guard down by becoming 'tipsy'. You would only act intoxicated in order to blame your attraction to me."

Harry tipped back his head and gave a short laugh. "Keep believing that, Tom." He felt slight annoyance from Voldemort at his given name.

Silence and then the verbal spar between them was vanished, both of them knowing they had to get this next conversation over with.

"Tell me, Harrison," Voldemort set down his glass of wine after taking a long sip. In his fingers, the locket dangled and swung back and forth softly. "What do you think of Zabini's child, the boy your age?"

Harry tensed and then shot forward, slamming his cup down. "No," Harry shook his head. "We aren't starting on this. We're discussing your Horcrux, not-,"

"Why don't we play a game then?" Crimson eyes were still locked on the locket hanging from his fingers. The gold shimmered back at Harry in the firelight. "We take turns asking each other a question and the other answers it. Truthfully." Voldemort implied softly, a slight grin on his lips. "Because I would _love_ to get to know you better."

Harry smirked. He knew well enough that the Dark Lord wanted to know every sexual experience he had and then eliminate whomever he had it with. But he was willing to risk Cho's and Parvati's life in order to hear more about the Dark Lord. Merlin, he had so much he wanted to question the man. "Deal," Harry agreed softly.

Voldemort's eyes opened fully and he leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. Harry watched as the man gave a lazy wave of his wand and the room tingled. "Just a minor truth spell," Voldemort exaggerated. "What do you think of Zabini's child?"

Harry grinded his teeth, "He's quiet…and smart." He would have stopped there, but the truth spell opened his mouth once more. "Incredibly handsome," green eyes widened and then narrowed. The Dark Lord was emotionless again, the locket in his fingers swinging madly back and forth. The Dark Lord was staring at him intentionally.

Brushing away a wavy strand of hair, Harry leaned further forward. "My turn," he grinned sadistically. "Why do you fear death, Voldemort?"

Crimson eyes seemed to dilate. There was silence and then, "I wish to conquer it. Ever since I could remember I have always wanted to be immortal." Harry could tell the man wanted to stop, but the truth spell urged him on. "I'm frightened of the unknown; I don't want to become nonexistent. I don't want to leave this world until I'm ready." The words were choppy, almost if they were forced out of the man's mouth.

Harry gave a small nod, realizing how private and personal that question was. He wasn't surprised at the next words coming from Voldemort's mouth. "Why do you want to become an assassin when it will destroy your natural Seer ability?"

"Because no one believes I can do it," Harry said automatically. "Because I've always wanted acceptance from my father. And when he laughed in my face as I told him my dream, my resolve hardened. I believe I can become an assassin while still having my emotions. There have been no recorded Seers becoming assassins, but I will be able to do it."

Voldemort surveyed him. "You're doing it just because of proving it to others? Child, that is the first step of failure. In order to succeed you need to want to do it for yourself."

Looking down at his creamed tea, Harry gave a soft smile. "I thought that was the reason," he confessed. "I suppose with the truth spell, I…" Harry trailed off, baring his teeth. "What are your goals for the wizarding world? Why do you think I should side with you?"

Knowing eyes danced across his face. The man was smug and Harry could feel it overpowering him. "The light is prejudiced, Harrison. Utterly and completely. To them, Dark is bad and light is good. What they don't realize is that some wizards and witches _need_ to cast dark magic, it's a necessity." Voldemort didn't have any trouble explaining this and Harry felt brief sadness that he wasted a truth from Voldemort- a question he could have had answered anytime. "I want to show the world that there can be dark wizards and light wizards coexisting. I want to show them that not everything is all bright and innocent."

"In short, you want them to experience the pain you went through as a child." Harry whispered, knowing he was walking on ice with Voldemort. "You want to kill muggles because of the way they treated you in the orphanage, don't you?"

"How much have you Seen, Harry?" It was the first time the man had called him 'Harry' and not Harrison.

"Enough," Harry looked up at the man, seeing the crimson eyes on the Seer mark at his cheek. "I know they treated you cruelly and in return, you treated them cruelly as you grew older." Harry's lips twitched. "You had so much power as a child and you weren't afraid to use it." He remembered seeing Voldemort torture one of the boys who had given him hell.

"I'm not going to deny it, Harry." Voldemort leaned forward in his chair, his eyes intense. "I enjoy killing. I enjoy anguish…I take pleasure in seeing my enemy's face horrified and broken before I kill them." Harry smirked, not in the least affected about his confessions. He knew the Dark Lord was bloody _Dark_ not a pansy. "I hate muggles and I will never like them. I know you are the same, child."

"I seem to share your hatred for muggles, despite the fact I have never been around them. I blame it on the way I was raised- being brainwashed by my father to despise muggleborns, muggles…and half-bloods." He replied, staring at Voldemort pointedly. The man gave a twisted smile.

"Are you a virgin?" Harry snapped his teeth together in a snarl at the man's question. Voldemort sat there so charmingly, his lids lowered as he watched Harry's response.

Harry shifted uncomfortably, remembering _that_ experience. "No."

Crimson eyes widened. "With whom?"

The younger wizard gave a laugh. "That's two questions, My Lord. You are only allowed _one_ question per time. Tell me, how many people _have you_ slept with? Because I'm sure as hell you aren't a bloody virgin."

Voldemort remained quiet, "With whom, Harrison?"

Harry saw red. He stood up in a fit of anger and stalked toward the man. "I sleep with _one_ person. You, on the other hand, sleep with everyone who has the bloody Dark Mark. Why are you so worried about me? Why are you so _possessive_?" Voldemort smiled- completely unfazed.

"I _am_ possessive of you, Harrison." The man stood up, reaching for him. "I will always be."

"Is it because I'm a Seer? Or perhaps because I'm an above average wizard, carrying power?" Harry was digging for any explainable reason why the man would be so domineering and overprotective. Any reason, he just _wanted_ a reason. Voldemort reached his hand over and laid it on his cheek.

Leaning forward, the Dark Lord inhaled deeply near Harry's crook of his neck. "We smell the same." Green eyes fluttered shut at the contact. He was completely _aware_ of Voldemort's skin on his; the hand holding his jaw up and the nose tracing his skin. "You're my magical Match, love."

Bright eyes snapped open and he pushed at Voldemort's chest. The taller man hardly moved, but he did lean back to stare at Harry's face. "What?" Harry asked stupidly, his fingers curling on Voldemort's material on his chest and pulling at it. "Your Match?" Harry furrowed his brows, gazing unseeingly at the man. "I've read about those…they're rare. Very rare." Now he understood why he smelt like Voldemort…why he could talk to snakes…he wondered what gift Voldemort inherited from Harry.

"Precisely," Voldemort laid his hand on Harry's cheek once more, claiming it over his Seer mark. "Which is why I'm so protective over you."

"I'm not ready for you," Harry blurted out, startling Voldemort.

The hand left his check and Voldemort looked down at his locket. "I have enough patience to wait for you- just not enough patience to allow _anyone_ near you." Crimson eyes looked up once again, this time the locket was placed around his neck. Harry stayed spotless; the heavy gold felt welcomed…a protective feeling embracing him.

"What are the affects of having a Horcrux so close to me?" Harry asked, trying to turn the subject around.

"It will do you no harm. My soul recognizes you as my Match." Voldemort replied automatically, his body still suffocating Harry with his closeness.

Harry smirked. "To me…but what about to others?"

Voldemort cocked his head, his eyes bright with dark amusement. "It senses my enemies as well as your own." Harry frowned at the man's short answer. "I want you to wear the Horcrux, Harrison. I didn't just give you the Horcrux because you are my Match, but because I have trust you'll protect it. You are a remarkable wizard…" Fingers rained down his cheek and Harry felt his pulse rise in his throat.

"But Dumbledore might sense-,"

"Hush, child, it does not matter. I want you to accept it." _To accept me_ …Harry could hear those unspoken words. His fingers closed around the locket, giving it a reassuring stroke, and then placed it inside his robes as answer. Voldemort hissed pleasantly. The man grabbed the sides of his face rather roughly and claimed his lips.

Harry stopped breathing, sharp pleasurable shocks erupting behind his closed eyes. Merlin, this was so nice…

Voldemort deepened the kiss, his lips dominant over Harry's. The man's fingernails were digging into Harry's cheeks, pulling him as close as possible. Even if it _was_ rough, it was sexy as hell and Harry felt as if he would collapse if it weren't for Voldemort's hold on him. He could senseVoldemort's arousal and his own intermixed, it made him breathless and hot. His body shook and Voldemort took advantage. His body knocked into Harry's smaller one and dropped him on the couch.

They tumbled down, Harry becoming pleasantly suffocated from Voldemort's weight. Harry kissed back just as heatedly and rough, bringing his fingers up and raking his nails threw Voldemort's silky tresses. He messed the hair up, pulling it out of the ribbon and yanking at it as hard as possible. Voldemort wasn't tender either, for one of his hands was wrenching his hair downward, causing his head tip backward to allow more access to Voldemort's demanding and probing tongue.

And the tongue wasn't mild…it lashed Harry's own tongue into submission and stated claim on every corner of his mouth.

They both breathed harshly through their noses, exchanging saliva and blood from Harry's and Voldemort's bitten tongue. It would have been rather disgusting, but with Voldemort- it was incredible.

Harry gasped into Voldemort's mouth as he felt the man thrust his hard member into his own hardening groin. "My…my Lord?" Green eyes snapped open, turning sideways to see Bellatrix standing flabbergasted. Her face was green and her eyes were wide.

"Get out," Voldemort whispered dangerously. "You had no _right_ entering my chambers without my permission." He wondered why Bellatrix was here, until he saw her cloak she had abandoned on the ground. He had a hunch she left it there on purpose, just to snoop and see what was going on between the two.

Harry laid limp underneath the Dark Lord, his mind clearing. Bellatrix gave a breathless whisper of apology and grabbed her cloak that had been left on the ground. Dark eyes stared at Harry underneath the larger body. Harry stared back, emotionless. Merlin, what had he just done? He had just given Voldemort free rein on his body. The man now thought he could do this whenever he wished…and Harry would lay submissive.

He was so weak. Was he really this desperate to get in bed with someone? But what he had done with Cho was _far_ different then what effect Voldemort had on him.

Harry felt Bellatrix's sorrow and disgust as she hurried out the room and shut the door. As soon as the door slammed, Harry pushed on Voldemort's chest and scrambled up. Stoically, he brushed his robes calmly. "I think our conversation is more then finished, My Lord." His voice was professional. What he had just done with Voldemort… was not acceptable. How could he get in any sort of relationship with him? He despised relationships…although…the man was a brilliant kisser.

As he made his way out the door, a hand grabbed him back rather harshly. "You agreed to spend the night." His back was pressed against Voldemort's thin chest.

"No," Harry corrected smugly. "I agreed I would stay with you _tonight_ , yes, but considering its well past three in the morning, its not considered 'night', but early morning." Smug green eyes slid to emotionless crimson. "Which brings us to our next loophole…I agreed to stay here if you didn't touch me." Leaning forward, Harry smirked softly. "And we both know that you've crossed the line completely on that term."

Pale fingers removed larger pale fingers from his arm. "I have an appointment with the Headmaster; I suppose this is farewell until Christmas break?" The Dark Lord looked far from happy. "I assure you, I'll have some inside information on the light by that time."

"Don't be professional with me, child." Voldemort hissed. "Despite the fact you are doing a very good job forgetting about it, we _are_ Matches. There will _never be_ a professional relationship between you and I. We are physically attracted to each other, there is no business."

"Perhaps not _just_ business, but if you work hard… _you play even harder_." Harry whispered near Voldemort's lips, getting a thrill of satisfaction as crimson eyes became hooded in desire. He slowly walked out the hot room and into the cool hallway. "Perhaps if you clean the house and trim the weeds, I might stay over one night…" he grinned at his own joke.

Walking toward the stairs, he heard Voldemort give a dark chuckle. "No matter the house, _our_ bed is always clean and waiting…my sweet Slytherin." Harry was glad he was facing away from the Dark Lord as the man spoke his next and last words. "Alas, it wouldn't be so clean once we're through…"

Crimson in the face, Harry hurried away- feeling Voldemort's sick amusement.

** -SSC- **

He wasn't planning on it turning out this way. Brilliant green eyes glanced sideways as Pythia Zabini, giving a dark grin. Having Pythia with him when he talked to Dumbledore was unplanned…but a pleasant surprise. She was beautiful as she walked stylishly beside his equally graceful body. Her robes were very flattering on her body, hugging her delectable curves around her chest and thin waist. Her usual French braid was unbraided, revealing silky tresses that curled to her waist.

Although she may have looked 'pretty' or gorgeous, she had a very strong air about her. Her chilling blue eyes were hard and assessing, challenging anyone in their wake. The lights played eerily across her flawless black skin and the Seer mark blinked tauntingly at anyone who looked.

Harry's smirk widened as the blue eyes turned to him. He had to look up to her, only coming up to her bicep. "What is so amusing, young one?" As she spoke, her own lips twitched. "Be calm and collected, we've discussed our plan. Dumbledore is a fool when it comes to trusting me and Seers alike." Her aristocratic hand fell on his small shoulder, urging him forward.

It was relatively early. Harry hadn't been able to fall asleep in the Zabini manor- his discussion with Voldemort rushing through his head. The kiss…the game…it was all so…fast. But it felt exhilarating and he enjoyed the Dark Lord's presence. It felt so wrong- so right- to be with Voldemort.

The only thing he should have done differently is press more on the subject of Horcruxes…and the ultimate question he failed to ask- what the _hell_ was Voldemort planning with all the firstborns. He vowed to look at that ritual as his next project.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore leaned forward in his desk, expecting them. "And Mrs. Zabini," he gave a respectful little bow as much as was possible while he was sitting down. Around the room, it smelt like spring rain from Dumbledore's magic and fresh lilacs from Harry. He resisted a smile. The man was beyond powerful…sometimes- very, _very_ deep down, he wondered if he should follow the Headmaster. The man had done nothing against him and had done no snooping. Of course, Harry had always felt the man's azure eyes on him- following him and watching, but nothing else. He had always been respectful to him and vice versa.

"Hello Headmaster," her voice was lethally beautiful. Harry's eyes hooded, enjoying his teacher's persona. "Harrison and I need to discuss something vital with you."

Dumbledore motioned for them to sit in front of his large desk. Harry sat down, poised and charming, giving the Headmaster a soft smile. "There have been…some recent events that came to my attention." Harry tilted his face slightly, showing off his Seer mark. It was so close to being the thick and shimmering onyx of a full fledged Seer- so close.

Pleasure licked him as he witnessed a slight widening of Dumbledore's eyes. With his Seer ability, he could feel Dumbledore's haughtiness and excitement. And Harry knew why the man was feeling that way. He remembered what Pythia revealed to him; that Seers were neutral in the war. Dumbledore was no doubt thinking Harry couldn't _possibly_ be siding with Voldemort while plans of converting Harry to his side filled his manipulative head.

"That is a _very_ interesting event, Harrison. I had no idea that you were a Seer." He waved his wand and a silver tray of lemon pastries and tea appeared. "Help yourself," the man reached for the cube of lemon cake, eyes almost as bright as they were when he found out Harry was a Seer. "Mr. Longbottom had never mentioned your ability, Mr. Malfoy."

Harry and Pythia shared a look as they watched Dumbledore indulge in his lemon pastries. "Neville didn't know, Headmaster. I was confused when I kept getting dreams of the future events. At first I thought it was just a coincidence until Blaise, my roommate, revealed to me that his mother was a Seer- as was I." Harry picked off a piece of lemon pastry that fell on his clothes and glowered. "Pythia has been teaching me the ways of Seer this summer…but my Seer ability is not what I came here to tell you."

Dumbledore dropped his fork gently on the empty plate and looked up at Harry, pensively. "You see, Albus," Pythia started, commanding attention instantaneously. "Harrison came to me this summer because of a family issue. I took him under my wing and taught him." She gave a smile, full of straight white teeth. Her well manicured hand placed itself on Harry's knee. "He's done beautifully, as you can see; he's almost a full fledged Seer."

The Headmaster nodded, staring at the tarnished mark- slowly turning pitch black. "The problem is, Blaise and I always take a summer trip to France to visit his cousin. As much as I'd like to bring Harrison with us, Blaise is a little…" she paused smiling softly. "Possessive of our time together."

Harry tried not to react at the word 'possessive', it only reminded him of Voldemort.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Understandable, Mrs. Zabini," his voice was full of respect and Harry wondered how close these two were.

Her hand clutched his knee and Harry grinned. "What we came here to ask you, is if it's possible to take Harry in for the rest of the summer." His eyebrows rose at the statement.

"Headmaster," it was Harry's turn now. He bowed his head and muttered, "My father disowned me earlier this summer. We had a disagreement over my friends…if you understand my meaning." He gave a blush for show and glanced down guiltily at his shoes. "My mother convinced him to take me back in the Malfoy family; unfortunately, I can't live with him right now. I would be very grateful if you could help me out, Headmaster."

The anticipation came through on Dumbledore's half once again. "Of course, my boy, you can stay with your cousin, Sirius Black. At the moment his house is a little full with the Weasley's and Longbottoms…but I'm sure you won't mind seeing your friends again. I'm sure they've missed you."

Harry heard _plenty_ about Sirius Black- his mother's cousin…the traitor of the Black family. His lips twitched. He had never really met the man, and on the contrary, he was looking forward to meeting his second cousin. "But sir, I don't think that's exactly a great idea…I mean…I'm still a Malfoy and I don't-," he stuttered and as predicted, Dumbledore stepped in.

"Nonsense, Harrison. Misters Longbottom and Weasley aren't known to associate with untrustworthy friends and Ms. Granger is very observant. I've seen you during the school year, Harrison, you are…unlike your twin." Harry gave a true smile, remembering how different Draco and he were. "I'm sure they would be happy to see you."

Harry was almost _sure_ that ideas of getting him and Neville close together were running through Dumbledore's mind. After all, it would be _ideal_ to have a Seer on their side…and if that Seer was good friends with the boy-who-lived, it was even better. Perfect really.

"If you're sure, Headmaster," Harry trailed off, glancing at a pleased Pythia beside him.

"I am sure, Harrison," the man smiled and picked up a crumb from his plate and licked his finger. Harry repressed a grimace of distaste. He would have to be living with ill mannered Gryffindor's the rest of the summer. He just hoped he kept his pureblooded mannerism…hopefully he wouldn't be brainwashed into _acting_ like one of _them._ Harry shivered. "I will be checking in on you to see how everything is going." Harry nodded. "Tell me, Mr. Malfoy, how is your relationship with your family at the moment? Do you ever see yourself going back to the manor?"

"Truthfully, Headmaster, I do." Harry watched as Dumbledore set down his clean plate and gave a nod to continue. "I love my mother deeply and as much as I'm angry with them- I love my father and brother also. We just see things differently,"

"I'm very proud of you, Harrison." Harry blinked, thinking that Dumbledore would be put off that Harry was still in contact with the Malfoys. "Love is a powerful emotion and if you are able to love someone who has treated you terribly it shows me you are a good person." Harry smiled, without humor. A good person…he supposed he could enjoy the compliment, despite the fact it should not be directed toward him. Ever.

"Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore."

The three all shared a smile, both having underhanded plans for each other.

Oh, how exciting this was.

** -SSC- **

It was hard saying farewell to Pythia. Luckily, it wouldn't be the last time he would see her. Before he left, she gave him a stern talk- warning him she better see a dark onyx mark on his cheek the next time she saw him. He promised he would meditate and practice his emotions everyday.

Blaise and Pythia really were going to France, but just as a cover-up. It really wouldn't look too good if Dumbledore found out they weren't out of the country. Blaise had expressed his deepest sympathies at not being able to attend his ball. With a kiss on his check, Blaise wished him Happy Birthday and Harry was still smirking…

Still smirking…

Standing in front of all of them.

Every eye was on him, simply blinking and looking bemused. "Albus?" It looked like Molly Weasley and Harry got his smirk under control.

Dumbledore laid his hand on Harry's shoulder, pushing him and his trunk forward. "Sirius," Dumbledore motioned and Sirius Black stepped forward. Harry stared into the dark eyes, getting a thrill of seeing on of his relatives; the black sheep of the Black family…while Harry was the black sheep out of the Malfoy family. Fitting, yes?

Sirius was handsome, looking somewhat similar to Harry but far more masculine and less… petite and graceful. Harry prided himself knowing _he_ was the more striking and exotic looking one. The man's face seemed to pale at seeing him. Those dark eyes drank every feature of him. "A Seer?" His voice was strained and he was looking at Harry as if he were looking at a ghost.

Hermione perked up, getting excited at seeing the Seer mark on Harry's face. Actually, everyone seemed to lighten up, becoming interested.

Harry forced his lips to actually _smile_ and not smirk.

Harry was relieved that Seers were known to be neutral in the war…thank Merlin.

Slowly, he stepped into the house, breathing heavily and taking comfort from Tom's soul around his neck.


	10. You Don't Believe in Me

** Chapter Ten: You Don't Believe in Me **

They were eating.

Harry refused to lift his eyes from his plate, in fear of loosing the food he had just consumed. All around him, he could hear slurping, smacking, licking, grunting…if he closed his eyes, he could imagine he was eating with a lot of wild boars. "So…Harry," he winced at the mouth full of food, already knowing it was Ron. "A Seer, huh? I guess you and Trelawney would hit it off."

Eyes twitching, Harry felt his anger rise in his chest. How dare they even _compare_ him to Trelawney? Holding in his angry remark, Harry calmly placed his fork down and picked up the napkin laying so politely on his lap. Making sure all his food was _down_ before he opened his mouth, he looked up at the hideous sight the red head made…all of the red heads. "Manners, Ronald," Mrs. Weasley warned. "I'm sure Harrison is utterly appalled at your manners. _All_ your manners," she glared at the whole table, mainly her sons.

"Not all of us learned pureblood manners by being hit with sticks when we did something bad." One of the twins whispered spitefully and Harry refused to rise to the bait.

"Actually, Ron, Professor Trelawney is not a Seer." He glanced over at Sirius, the head of the table. Neville and he seemed awfully close, the two grinning ear to ear at something Sirius muttered. Harry repressed a sneer. Such show of affection would not go unnoticed by Longbottom's enemies. They would target Sirius Black in a heartbeat if they knew how easily it was to draw Neville into their hands.

Neville hardly changed over the summer. He was still average height, average weight- if not on the flabby side, and his hair was still the same short cut. There was nothing interesting to look at with Longbottom- save for his lightning bolt scar so clearly seen on his forehead. His blue eyes were so…revealing. They glanced at Harrison and smiled. Sirius looked over and seemed to be caught in Harry's gaze.

Becoming uncomfortable with the man's overwhelming stare, Harry turned his attention across from him at Ginny. The girl caught his stare and looked down at her plate, her cheeks slightly flushed. She had definitely grown over the summer. It appeared that she had finally grown her womanly curves and her flaming red hair grew out down her back. She was pretty, Harry wouldn't deny it. She had a certain air about her that took away from her plainness. Her brown eyes caught his brilliant green and he gave her a slight smile. The two had always talked to one another, just not as much as he 'talked' with the trio.

"How is she _not_ a Seer?" Ron interrupted Harry before he could greet Ginny. She gave him a roll of the eyes and Harry smirked back. Although she was easy on the eyes, Harry would- no- could never see himself with her.

"She's more of a Prophet," Harry started, stabbing his string bean. Ron hadn't changed in the least. He just shot up in height and stretched out like a pole. Rather unsightly if Harry had anything to say about it. "She speaks prophecies but she doesn't remember them. Seers on the other hand, See visions of the future and past and we remember them. They don't come to us as prophecies like Prophets- but dream like."

Beside him, Hermione was nodding her head heatedly. Her hair seemed to be less frizzy and more curlier- that was the only difference Harry could see from Hermione. She opened her mouth and started to lecture Ron on more details and the red head paled, giving Harry a helpless look. The Malfoy just grinned and ate his green vegetables.

"So…Harry," one of the twins started and Harry refused to even look at them. The twins had never liked him at school and Harry knew the two would be the hardest to adapt to. "Or _Harrison_ ,"

Ginny and Ron all groaned, knowing what was coming. "Yes Fred?" Harry couldn't help it. Heknew the difference between the two- he just chose not to notice the physical differences. Fred smelt like exotic fruit while Hermione smelt like daises and George smelt like soil. Neville and Ron, along with Author Weasley didn't really have any smell to their magic. Ginny smelt like spices and Sirius smelt like frost.

All their powers were rather diminutive, save for Sirius'. Whenever Harry actually took an inhale of breath around the man, his nostrils seemed to freeze.

The two twins stared at one another, flabbergasted that Harry was able to tell the difference between the two of them without even glancing. They got over it quickly. "Why were you disowned? Could your big papa not handle you being friends with the boy-who-lived?" The room got silent and Harry knew this was coming. The discrimination against Malfoys…

"He was rather…indifferent about my friends, yes." He refused to look at any of them.

"It means a lot to us, Harry, that you'd stick up for us." It was Neville- ever the hero. Harry sneered internally, pushing his mashed potatoes around on his plate. The Malfoy manor had much better food than this rubbish. He missed his mother, no matter how juvenile that sounded.

"We've been going at it ever since I can remember, Neville. That argument was just the tip of the iceberg." Fred and George chuckled lowly and Harry cast them a wary glance.

"Your brother _is_ a prat, Harry. And your father is a bastard-," Ron started.

"Ronald Billus Weasley!" Molly screeched and Ron turned red around the ears. "Total disrespect to Harry-,"

"It's alright, Mrs. Weasley." Harry set his fork down. "I understand all of you hate the Malfoy name and I know this will be rather difficult to get around…living with me and all. I already knew my brother was a bloody idiot and my father is a ponce." Fed and George grinned.

"And your mother is a-,"

Harry snapped, hissing in their direction. "You will _not_ talk ill of my mother. You may throw Lucius' and Draco's name around as much as you please, but never my mother. You don't know her, you cannot judge her." They were all blinking and Harry stood up, cool and collected. "Thank you for the dinner, Mrs. Weasley and I thank you, Mr. Black, for allowing me in your house." With that, he turned his heel and went up the stairs.

He had to get his anger under control. As much as he hated them all, he needed to act _somewhat_ decent. Molly Weasley had no control over her idiot and disgraceful children, it was sickening. And Neville actually thought Harry would defend _him_ from his father? The boy thought everything revolved around him.

He climbed the old staircase of Sirius' manor and glanced around. It was rather plain looking house. It was old but interesting. Dark woods and cream colored walls decorated the décor. There were a few portraits of Sirius and the Potters. Harry remembered reading that they had died during the first war. There was also another man with Sirius, a man with amber eyes- obviously a werewolf. Harry was unsure who the man was, but brushed it off.

Other than those few portraits, Harry found it almost…depressing in the house.

He brushed it off and glided up another flight of stairs to his room. His feet barely hit the ground and he never made a sound. Only his harsh breathing was heard…he needed to control his anger. A good meditation would do the trick.

He finally came to the room Sirius put his things in and closed the door behind him. Looking around the plain room, Harry's eyes brightened when he looked at the large bed. Making sure no one entered behind him, Harry slipped off his shoes and took a running start. Heart pounding, Harry jumped on his feet, gaining height and did a somersault in the air, landing successfully on his bed. Of course, it _was_ successful, until his foot caught the sheets and made him tumble to the floor.

Face red, Harry laid on the ground, staring up at the ceiling. Well, he almost did it. He was very agile and flexible- making his assassin dream so much easier to reach. He had practiced the somersault for a while now- perfecting it in his bedroom in the Malfoy manor. All he needed to do was perfect if _everywhere._

Pushing his personal assassin training away, Harry got up off the floor and sat on the bed- lotus position. Pythia had taught him to sit comfortably in this position for long hours at a time. At first, it had been odd sitting in such a way, but over time, he got used to it.

Harry took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

He concentrated on finding his core. Easily enough, he was lifted away into his own world. Across from him, sat…well- himself. Harry studied his small frame and the bright green eyes that stared back at him. The cheekbones were pronounced and his nose was strong and aquiline. Flawless skin glowed and green eyes blazed. His hair was getting slightly longer- still in its stubborn wavy locks.

"Hello Self," Harry whispered softly. Self lifted its eyebrow, studying him.

"You're complete," Self spoke with a smug air around him. Self was his guide- or his 'inner self'. The boy helped him face things he didn't want to face…and he told it to him truthfully until Harry accepted them and agreed, believing them himself. "You are a full-fledged Seer, congratulations." Harry smiled, knowing already that nothing would change for being a full-fledged Seer. Of course, his mark would be darker, but he would still need to train and meditate on a regular occurrence.

"Perhaps," Harry agreed, smiling. "Is there anything I've been denying to myself?"

Green eyes closed. "You tell me,"

"No," Harry denied. "There is nothing I am denying. I hate the light side, they give me a headache. The Weasley's are absolute pigs…they _dare_ compare me to a damned poetic Prophet…" Harry hissed, eyes glowing. "I want Voldemort to torture each and every one of them."

"Why not you? Why can't you torture them yourself?"

Harry raised his eyebrows, surprised. "I suppose…" he took a deep breath, knowing he could never hide his true self. "Because I haven't tortured yet. I'm frightened of doing so. I don't mind killing, hell, I even _like_ killing- I'm just not someone who enjoys hours of screaming and blood." Self nodded, smiling softly. Harry knew 'Self' was just him; only this part of himself confronted things to him.

"You're also a Seer, Harry. Make them _feel_ like they want to like you. Manipulate them into submission…" Harry's eyes brightened and he gave a malicious smile. "You want to fuck the mudblood- you could easily make her do it." Harry sneered at that, not liking the idea of getting himself dirty with her of all people. He hadn't used his Seer powers in a real situation before…Merlin…it sounded wonderful to do. He couldn't wait to try it; especially on the Golden Trio.

Silence stretched and Harry stared at nothing in particular. "There is something else I should probably confess…" Harry looked around them, watching the different auras of light flashing every few minutes. From green to yellow, they all soothed him and comforted him.

"You want Sirius Black to notice you," Self proclaimed before Harry could.

"Yes," Harry whispered. "He reminds me so much of myself. And I see how he interacts with Neville…I just…"

"Longbottom isn't exactly the brightest idiot out there, Harry. He would be better off dead- you know this, you want his death." Self grinned maliciously and Harry was reminded that even his Seer Self wasn't loving and gentle. _He_ wasn't nice but he was dark. He had to remember that Self was him, not an alternative ego. "He never trusted you throughout your years at Hogwarts. When you just wanted a friend to love and trust, he never showed you any acceptance because of your damned name. Rather shallow."

Harry chuckled lowly. "Where is this going? I thought we were discussing Sirius Black."

Self pursed his lips. "I don't need to say it, Harry. You're thinking the same things as I am."

"That if Longbottom could warm his way into Sirius' heart, so can I." Harry finished, nodding. "I just want a look at Sirius Black. I want to see the man for who he is. If I don't like what I see, then Longbottom can have him."

"And if you like Sirius Black?" Harry cocked his head, giving Self an irritated look. "Ah, yes," Self gave another laugh. "You don't believe in 'relationships'. You just believe in the standard ones…such as master and servant, professor and student, follower and leader…and that _one_ exception; mother and son. Why do you hate anything that has to do with growing an attachment?"

"I think you _know_ , Self." Harry spat back.

"Bitter," Self intoned, relaxing in his sitting position. "Tell me, Harry."

"Because relationships hurt me," his voice was slightly broken. "Cho Chang cheated on me after she said she _loved_ me. Neville and Ron always turned on me when I needed their attention and friendship. And my father…my bloody father…" Harry bowed his head, blinking back the tears. "All I ever wanted was his love and his approval…and when I needed it- he _laughed_ in my face." Harry shook his head, remembering that detail so clearly in his mind.

"Admitting why you hate relationships is a step in the right direction, Harry. But you must understand that everyone gets hurt in life…whether it is from their decisions or their loved ones. It happens all around you. You aren't the only one who has experienced pain. Why don't you let go of your past hardships and embrace new relationships?"

"I just don't want to get hurt again," Harry lifted his head, eyes alight. "I don't like feeling vulnerable. I'm strong and independent, I don't need attachments."

"I can't make you change your mind. I'm only here so you can not lie to yourself, and you aren't." Self frowned. "You see that you're wrong for not forging new relationships and you don't deny the fact that you don't fit in here…here with the light side. You belong with your family- not these…" Self trailed off, sneering.

"I would like to spy, just for a little bit…and to get Voldemort's and my father's knickers in a bundle."

Self turned amused once again. "You want Voldemort to be jealous, don't you?" Harry's twisted smile was answer enough and Self laughed. "He is rather amusing when he gets all possessive over you."

Harry stopped smiling, knowing there was someone near his body. "It's him," Harry gave a small wave. "I need to go,"

He was brought back to his body, well aware of the man that was quietly entering his room. "You know, if you wanted to sneak up on me, you should have at least taken off your shoes." Harry still kept his eyes shut, a small smirk playing his lips. Slowly, he opened his eyes, watching as Sirius Black paused near the doorway. The man gave a rugged grin, leaning casually against the wall and crossing his arms across his chest.

"I just want to formally welcome you here," Harry blinked at him, opening his mouth slightly. "I apologize for what happened downstairs-,"

"Nonsense, it wasn't your fault. I understand they would be suspicious because of my last name. It happens," Harry shrugged. "I don't mind them putting down my father and brother, but my mother is different." Harry shifted and undid his legs from their twist.

"Ah, Cissy, yes, she was always the most logic daughter of Cygnus and Druella Black." Sirius's dark grey eyes stared at him. From the time Harry saw him with Neville- all light and happy- was different from the way he was with him. Sirius seemed guarded and awed around him.

"She's a good woman," Harry defended his mother- he would _always_ defend his mother. "I'm sure you don't share my opinion, Mr. Black."

Sirius gave a soft laugh, inching forward. "May I?" He motioned to the end of the bed and Harry inclined his head in answer, situating himself to look at Sirius head on. The man had a grin on his face as he studied Harry's charismatic posture. "You may call me Sirius, Harrison."

Harry leaned forward, eyes bright. "And you may call me Harry if you'd like."

"I have to admit, you're far different than I pictured you to be. Rather startling that you have dark hair and look so…"

"So like your brother?" Harry finished for Sirius, giving a smile. "I've heard that plenty of times from my mother, hence why I'm named after him." Sirius raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Harrison Regulus Malfoy," Harry explained further.

"You do look strikingly like Regulus, yes." There was that haunted look in Sirius' eyes again. "But you also have that goddess look from your mother, she was always so proud of her appearance. All the Blacks are rather vain." Harry smirked, knowing exactly what Sirius was talking about.

He would love to know about Regulus and Sirius' relationship, but chose not to push it just yet. Perhaps it would come out by itself.

"Thank you again, for taking me in for the rest of the summer." There was a tense air between the two, more awkward then tense. Harry took a deep breath, giving off the feelings of calmness and friendship. Through hooded eyes, he watched as Sirius' shoulders seemed to slouch slightly. This was his first time ever inflicting another emotion on another. He thought he would feel guilty at controlling another's emotions…but frankly, he felt powerful and superior.

"I understand what your going through, Harry." Sirius gave a grin, lighting up with Harry's influence. "When I was around your age, I left my parents and moved in with my best mate. You and I are alike more than you think." _Oh, I already know that…cousin._ "I'm sure you've already heard about my disownment from your mother."

Harry's smirk was answer enough and Sirius chuckled lowly. "I wasn't ashamed in the least. Actually, the only regret I had was leaving my little brother." Sitting slightly back against the headboard, Harry surveyed the man in front of him. Sirius seemed to get loose lips when he was relaxed. He resisted giving a laugh, only continuing to give Sirius small waves of serenity. "Regulus and I were so close when we were younger…but I was the firstborn and rightful heir to the Black family. My parents seemed to favor me over Regulus and of course try to manipulate me against James and the light side." Sirius shook his head. "That is why I left."

Dark grey eyes looked down at his hands and a humorless grin spread across his lips. "I barely kept in contact with Regulus. I thought my parents would turn their attention on him instead, and shower him with the affection he needed. But they didn't. And it pushed Regulus to do things…things that would prove to his parents that he was worthy enough- but also things that were dangerous." Harry nodded, knowing what.

"He wanted to be an assassin." His mother had told him as much as she gave Harrison the assassin dagger for Christmas in his first year. Unconsciously, he touched the dagger strapped to his thigh- under his clothing.

"And he failed," Sirius nodded and Harry looked up at the man before him.

"What?" Harry questioned, leaning forward. "He failed because he died before he could even attempt to become an assassin, right?" That's what his mother had said.

"No, he was killed by the Assassin Guild." Sirius gave him a strange look.

"Why…why was he killed by the assassins?" Harry felt his breath lodge in his throat, looking anywhere but Sirius. "I thought he wanted to become an assassin?"

"He did," Sirius nodded. "But if you fail in their training- they kill you; plain and simple." Grey eyes danced across Harry's cheek. "It's a good thing you don't have any interest in becoming an assassin. They say Regulus failed because he was a Seer, too many emotions. Of course, he wasn't a full-fledged Seer like you but every Seer, no matter their level, has too many emotions to become an assassin." Sirius shrugged it off but for Harry- time seemed to cease. He sat up, bowing his head and breathing heavily.

"He was a _Seer?"_ Blazing green eyes looked up accusingly at Sirius. "He was a bloody Seer?" The man flinched backward, the soothing waves from Harry was completely gone. "Why didn't anyone tell me?" Harry asked angrily to no one in particular.

Sirius blinked, as if coming out of a haze. It was the after affects from Seer's powers. Of course, the Seer's victim would never pinpoint it to the Seer, but they still felt slightly hazy after the Seers power was absent from person. "I suppose I spoke of too much, Harry. I suppose your mother hid it from you for a reason…" Sirius gave a nervous laugh and itched the back of his head. Hesitantly, he stood up. "I apologize for-,"

"No," Harry raised his chin up, coolly. "You have nothing to be sorry about, Sirius. In fact, I'm happy you told me about your brother. I wanted to know more about him." He was much more under control, thanks to his Seer training. "It seems Regulus and I have much more in common than I initially thought." Before Sirius could open his mouth, Harry gave him an attempted smile. "Thanks, Sirius. I'm glad you could see past my name and get to know me."

The change in topic worked and Sirius gave an impish grin, a very Gryffindor grin. But the grin seemed rather forced- it _was_ fake. Harry could feel as much. But what interested him the most was feeling an alien emotion coming from Sirius. Looking deeper, Harry spotted it.

Untruthfulness, falsehood, deceit, sacrifice, surrender…all combined into one painful emotion for Harry. Sirius didn't have these emotions earlier when Harry was talking to him. But Harry didn't have to think long about why Sirius was feeling such a way. If fact, it interested him greatly. This Sirius before him, the loud and playful Gryffindor, was an act; a very well act, but nonetheless, false. It wasn't his true character. Sirius was hiding behind this mischievous mask in order to conceal his true self.

Harry stared at him knowingly, wondering if the man had actually been dark his whole life- but influenced by his friends and Dumbledore to come to the light side. "You're not too bad, little runt." Harry's smile became forced as Sirius reached over and messed his _hair_ up. His hair should never be messed up like this. Ever. Well…perhaps that _one_ time with Voldemort on the couch…but that was different. "Molly is making us all hot cider…we'd love for you to come down." Again, the forced act.

Harry gave a small laugh. "I think I'll stay up here, it's been a long day." Sirius gave a nod and slowly disappeared from the room.

Once the door shut, Harry put away the issue with Sirius and pulled up his cloak, baring his naked leg. His fingers danced over the smooth skin and then curled around the hilt of his dagger. Unsheathing it, Harry's wide green eyes reflected back at him from the crooked blade. This had been Regulus' dagger, but Harry never knew he had died with this… _because_ of this.

All it took was one single drop of his blood and a few murmured words and the Assassin Guild would quickly take him away. With the dagger he held, he could almost see Regulus cutting his own hand and asking for the assassins' guidance. Try as much as he could, Harry couldn't create that past vision. Pythia alleged he may be able to touch and object and be thrown into a vision concerning that object…but nothing happened. It only meant Harry wasn't ready to see that vision. Not yet.

His finger ran down the length of the blade, eyes empty as he stared at the wall across from him. Regulus had the same dreams as him when he was Harry's age. To be both a Seer and an assassin. Harry felt sinister emotions curl in his stomach and tension crawl up his back. Regulus had even become an assassin because he wanted to show his parents he was just as good as Sirius. Merlin…didn't that sound exactly like him?

Too close for comfort.

His jaw tightened as the blade slit his skin. But where Regulus had failed, Harry would succeed.

** -SSC- **

A few days had passed since he came to Sirius manor. Harry couldn't stop as a smug smile crossed his face as he surveyed the room.

They were all his pets.

Such good, behaved, pets.

Longbottom and the Weasleys were all under his spell. It was almost as if he was controlling them. Regrettably he was controlling just their emotions, not their actions. Still, it was _so_ much fun. The only two he wasn't controlling were Sirius and Ginny. Ginny, because she had a crush on him and treated him practical and Sirius, because Harry had a certain soft spot for the man. To boot, he and his 'cousin' were getting along well enough. He had also watched Sirius closely, seeing if that falsehood stayed with the man. It had. Whenever he was acting goofy or strange, Harry could feel Sirius' act.

It intrigued Harry.

There was always mistrust coming from Longbottom and he Weasleys, despite his Seer status. But Harry dispelled it and turned naive and accepting emotions toward the large group. Now a full-fledged Seer, Harry found it easy to do- almost as simple as breathing.

Currently, he was lounging on one of the sofas, reading a thick tomb that explained the different rituals one would use for firstborns. Unpredictably, Sirius had helped him pick the book out. It was on the darker side- only proving to Harry that Sirius was dark by nature.

Around him, the Weasley twins were actually being calm, sitting in the corner together- whispering about different pranks and items they came up with. Mr. Weasley was working late at the Ministry again while Mrs. Weasley was magically knitting a sweater of some sort. And that left the _Golden Trio._ Hate burned through Harry's chest as he grimaced at them behind his book. He hated them. The second day he had been at Sirius' house, he found them whispering to themselves about something or another. As soon as he stepped through the room, they had stopped.

It simply couldn't be that way. Which is why Harry forced them, by emotions, to accept him into their little group. They had been discussing Neville's odd dreams of a dark corridor and doors surrounding him. Harry didn't find it very interesting and shrugged it off.

He blinked, looking over at Ron and Neville, playing chess. The two were close friends; Harry could see that and _feel_ it. It slightly disgusted him…no…it made him envious. He had never had a bond like that with anyone and they couldn't even spare him any time. He had to force his way into their relationship. True, he was only doing this to gain information, but it would have been slightly pleasant if someone looked at him and actually wanted to be his _friend._

So far, he had absolutely no information. Save for the fact that Neville had a mind link with Voldemort. He had to inform the man as such.

Ginny came in the room and smiled at him, sitting down near him. "Have you asked my mother yet?" She questioned far too softly so her mother couldn't hear.

"Mrs. Weasley?" Harry questioned, already knowing he could _make_ Molly accept. The woman turned to him, blinking with a warm smile.

"Yes, my dear?" Harry held in a laugh. It was slightly bizarre how he thought of them like puppets. Oh, he couldn't wait to tell Voldemort about all this. Wait…what?

"I was wondering…well…" he threw Ginny a fake sheepish smile and she laid a hand on his knee. He wished he could slice her hand off… "I was wondering if I could escort Ginny to my ball this weekend. It's a formal ball for Draco and my birthday." As soon as the words left his mouth, he had to reign in most the occupant's emotions again. He could feel their rising disagreement but he hushed them sweetly and drugged them with calm waves and acceptance. He wouldn't want his puppets to get all uptight, now would he?

Their shoulders slumped and their attitudes all changed to positive.

The twins gave Ginny a grin. "Our little girl-,'

"- finally going to the ball of her dreams."

Ginny flushed and Harry smiled, watching as Hermione rolled her eyes. But something caught his attention. Longbottom's feelings hadn't just been refusal and denial when he asked the question, but he had felt jealousness coming off Longbottom in waves. It would seem that the boy-who-lived had a crush on Ginny. Interesting, and something he intended to play with.

He poured more acceptance and indifference to Longbottom, watching as the boy gave a shrug. Green eyes focused on Molly, watching her uncertainty with interest. With as much acceptance and tranquility he was giving her, she was certainly against Ginny going to the ball. "I don't know…" she looked between Ginny and Harry.

"I already asked Sirius and he agreed he could be her chaperon. He'll be coming along. And as a gift, I will buy her gown." Ginny blushed more deeply and Molly gave in after Harry reassured her the dress was a 'gift' and not charity.

Harry smiled at Ginny and leaned back against the couch, satisfied.

** -SSC- **

"Lucius," she danced in the room and Lucius could barely hold in his sneer.

"What is it, Bella?" He glanced at the paper work he still had to do for the Ministry. "I am busy, can't you go to Cissy?" Narcissa had convinced Lucius to house Bella and her husband in their manor, simply because the Dark Lord had kicked them out of his own manor. Lucius had complied, but only at one cost. They would sleep and reside in the depths of the dungeons. Pity they didn't _stay_ down there.

"No, Lucius, my dear," she positively crooned and purred as she laid on top his desk. Lips lifting in disgust, Lucius' pale eyes raised to her smug ones. His sister-in-law was the vilest creature… "What I'm about to tell you should be your ears only."

She laughed and Lucius remained stoic, staring at her. She squealed, clapping her hands. But her laughter died and a sinister gleam shone through her eyes as she leaned forward. "Your son, my nephew, and our Lord were…together." Her plump lips frowned as Lucius only blinked at her, uncomprehending. " _Together_ , my dear brother…your son was underneath our Lord- being utterly ravished."

Something tugged at Lucius' stomach and he stood, towering over her. "You lie," he hissed, grimacing.

"No," Bellatrix seemed to enjoy Lucius' reaction. "Blood and spit being exchanged…hair being pulled…" she leaned forward, her lips close to his ear. "And arousals grinding together-,"

He growled, pushing her away from him. "Harrison?" Lucius questioned which son, but he already knew the answer. He turned away from her as she hummed in agreement. His son was only fifteen. His lips frowned deeply and he felt ill. His Lord had been obsessed with Harrison and after hearing Bellatrix's account, Lucius only felt more unwell.

He had spent a long while in his manor in Poland, thinking about his relationship with his sons and wife. Admittedly, after long hours, he knew he wasn't being fair to Harrison. He had been blinded by the power of the Dark Lord marking Draco. But then he became unbiased as he remembered that Harrison was indeed the firstborn. He didn't know the consequences of giving the Dark Lord the second child; he only thought it fitting to give the man the healthy child.

Even now, Harrison was small for his age. But rather ironically, he was the smartest, the most beautiful, and the more powerful one between him and Draco. Perhaps it was a good thing to give the Dark Lord Draco; otherwise, Draco would be smothered in Harrison's shadow.

Over the long weeks alone, Lucius realized he loved his family more than anything in this world. Even more than power. Harrison was his son and he should be damned proud of both of them. And he was, the more he understood how blind he was. Harrison was an ideal son and he was a fool for pushing the boy away. And he had yet to discuss his findings with his son. If he hadn't acted like an idiot, he wouldn't have a son spying and living with the damned light side…with those revolting and ghastly Weasleys.

His eyes sought the portrait of the family; Narcissa, so beautiful and charming. Draco, the boy who always tried to please him. And Harrison, blindingly beautiful and strong enough to make his own decisions in life.

But sleeping with the Dark Lord…

He would not have that.

The Dark Lord was powerful, he knew and understood that. Lucius was loyal to the Dark Lord Voldemort and would follow the man anywhere. But he would not see a man like the Dark Lord, twist his son into his whore. He would not have the Dark Lord throwing Harrison away and breaking his son so. Because Lucius knew from experience that the Dark Lord always discarded his lovers so humiliating. He positively shamed his past lovers.

"What are you going to do, brother?" He knew Bellatrix was worried for Harrison but also jealous that the Dark Lord had taken another interest in one other than herself. Unlike all the Dark Lord's previous lovers, Bellatrix was not bothered by how cruel the Dark Lord was to her.

"Perhaps," Lucius started, staring into those bright green eyes of Harrison. The child only smiled softly, otherwise motionless. "Perhaps its time I set Harrison up with a betroth. A charming, beautiful, pureblood witch."

"Ha!" Bellatrix gave a scoff. "The Dark Lord will see it as a betrayal from you, Lucius. And what makes you sure our Lord won't just kill the lovely witch you set my nephew up with, hmm?"

"Why, Bella," Lucius turned back around. "You act as if the Dark Lord will _care_ that Harrison has someone else. Our Lord won't care if a fifteen year old is betrothed. He'll just step to his new lover." He frowned as Bella looked down at her hands, oddly serious.

"I think this is different, Lucius. I think Harrison is different to our Lord. Not only is my nephew a Seer and a Parselmouth but he's also the only one who our Lord took as a lover since his rebirth." She paused, her dark eyes looking up at Lucius with bemusement. "Do you think our Lord sees Harrison as a consort?" Lucius blanched, looking away from the woman.

"No, it cannot be. I won't allow it."

"But we pledged our loyalty to our Lord, Lucius. If he wants Harrison as his consort, you should be _honored_ to have a child of high status." She sat up on the desk, glaring at him. "I, for one, won't stand in _his_ way, neither should you."

"Harrison is my child, Bellatrix." Lucius hissed dangerously. "I guarantee you the Dark Lord only sees him as his next victim." He took a calming breath, becoming composed. "I respect the Dark Lord and I'm more than loyal to him and his cause. But when it comes to my family, I will do anything to protect them. I'm going to perform the Untouchable Ritual with Harrison and a witch of my choice."

Bellatrix's eyes widened in horror, "You cannot."

The Untouchable Ritual was meant to be cast on the future husband and wife. The ritual made it impossible for the other intended to cheat with a mistress or lover until the two got married. In the past, it was meant for women to remain virgins until they married their betroth. Or it was cast to put a halt to unfaithfulness from the male. In short, once Lucius cast the Untouchable Ritual on Harrison and his intended, no one would be able to sexually touch him. It would be impossible for someone to touch Harrison if they had sexual intentions on their mind and the same would go for Harrison's intended.

And it was unbreakable. The only way to break the ritual was to kill the women betroth or the man betroth.

"Our Lord will just kill the woman you bind Harrison with," Bellatrix smirked.

Lucius allowed his own smirk to answer her. "No," he said simply. "I know of a witch that the Dark Lord will never kill."

Bellatrix frowned, eyes widening. "Me?"

Lucius flinched, grimacing in disgust. "No, woman, not you, the Dark Lord wouldn't hesitate to kill you."

She gave him a sneer, baring her decomposed teeth. "Then who?" She questioned, insulted.

There was only one witch the Dark Lord wouldn't kill. The one and only witch out of the significant five.

"Pansy Parkinson," Lucius smiled coldly. The Dark Lord would need her alive in order to do the ritual he wanted with the _five_ firstborns. His plan would work. All that was needed was formal permission from Pansy's father.

And then, after he completed the ritual, the Dark Lord wouldn't be able to lay a sexual hand on Harrison again and throw him away broken.

"It's not going to work," Bellatrix taunted; a wide smile on her face. "Because if our Lord wants Harrison as his consort, he'll find a way out of it and you'll be dead as soon as he finds out you cast the ritual." Lucius gave a nonchalant shrug, sitting calmly back down at his desk. Picking up his quill, he dipped it in ink.

"I'll do anything for my family, Bellatrix."

** -SSC- **

It was the first time, in a long time, since Harry had a vision while he was sleeping.

_ Blue eyes, almost clear in color, glanced at Harry with a predatory stare. As he passed, Harry could smell the strong scent of lilacs from the man. He watched the platinum blonde make his way through the crowds, seemingly courting everyone from the palm of his hand. And then Harry made the connection. His height and statue was the same, his robes were richly sewn, and he had a seductive air around him. _

_ It was Voldemort in disguise. _

The scene flashed to another...

_ Two hands were shaking. A small insect crawled from one's sleeve and then digging itself into the other's skin. It left no bump, no mark, nothing. _

Once again, the scene was choppy. Every vision he Saw from the future was irregular and short.

_ It was a beautiful night out, fairies flying through the air, giving off light and a mystical glow. He was sitting down at a table, raised in height before all the guests. They sat at their own round tables. Some were gazing up at him and the boy next to him. Harry turned his head to see Draco next to him, dressed in fine robes. His twin sneered at him and turned back to the gift he was opening. Before the ribbon to the gift could even drop uselessly, a spell came out of no where and struck Draco. Harry watched numbly as his brother fell to the ground, dead. _

_ Wizards, dressed in blood red robes came running into the area, wands in hand. They had white masks on their face, which were painted strikingly like mimes. Some were painted happy while other sad or mad. Harry watched as they attacked the guests, paying special attention to the dark wizards in attendance. _

Harry sat up in bed, breathing heavily but trying not to gasp. He had a silly smile on his face. Voldemort would be coming to his birthday ball and there was a new organization of wizards. And what better honor than to have those mimes come out to the world on his birthday? What an _honor_. Of course, he wouldn't allow them to kill his brother, _that_ wouldn't do. Even if Draco was a bloody ponce, Harry wouldn't have anyone kill him.

He didn't understand the second vision though. What was that insect that went in the others skin so easily? He shrugged, too tired to care.

"This is going to be one hell of a ball," Harry whispered to no one in particular, grinning.

The locket around his neck warmed and lulled him back into a deep sleep.


	11. Set Your Guilt Free

** Chapter Eleven: Set Your Guilt Free **

_ Dear Harrison, _

_ No words can describe how happy I am that you've completed your training and are now a full fledged Seer. I did a good job, no? Alas, if it hadn't been for your eagerness and dedication, I would have had a harder time trying to make you into who you are today. You've shown me leaps and bounds, something that will stay with me the rest of my short existence. But I'll save my congratulations until Blaise and I come back from our summer trip. He's very anxious to see you once again; I can See it…feel his excitement and curiosity at seeing you again. _

_ As far as your question regarding our visions, it is up to you. Seers are powerful creatures, Harrison. We can see into the veiled past and also witness the uncertain future. Death is all but Fate's plan for us. As I have told you before, I have had many husbands whom I've seen die in my visions. Where you Saw Draco getting killed by the Avada Kedavra, all my husbands were naturally killed. I tried to stop the illnesses or the snake bites, but each time, I had failed. It pains me so that no matter how hard I tried, my visions always came true. _

_ What I'm trying to say, my dear student, is that you may succeed and you may not. Even if Fate has a stern hand, only Seers have the power to ease up her hand and give mercy. But I must warn you. Even if you do succeed in saving your brother, you have to remember you twisted Fate. It was written in Draco's destiny to die young. And it will remain that way. No matter how many times you save him, Fate will keep pushing until he is dead. _

_ It's always a win/loose situation with Lady Fate. She has a very deep hatred for Seers. _

_ Keep your chin up, Harrison. And enjoy your birthday. _

_ Keep meditating, _

_ Pythia Zabini _

Harry smoothed out the letter and gave a deep sigh. Her letter comforted him and set him off guard at the same time. So Fate would always attempt to kill Draco, no matter how many times Harry saved his brother?

Harrison placed the letter on his bedside. Was it even worth it? Draco was a bloody prat to him, why should he concern himself with saving the blonde brat?

He turned and looked in the mirror. His stunning facial planes reminded him of his mother. And thinking of the beautiful Narcissa made him realize that Draco was indeed his brother. His mother would have wanted him to protect family, no matter how cruel they were. "You win, mother," Harry whispered, his voice melodious. "I'll save your son, only because you love him." Or, at least he'd try to save Draco. Like Pythia had stated, she had tried countless of times to save her husbands and each time, she had failed.

"Harry," Sirius poked his head into his room. After those dark grey eyes landed on him, the man grinned ear to ear. "You look _fabulous,_ " his voice was taunting and high. Harry sneered in the man's direction, tugging on his dress robes.

"What do you want, Sirius?" Harry asked, bored. The man seemed to be absolutely irritating lately. When Harry had learned there was a deeper side to Sirius, the Black seemed to turn into the most obnoxious man around the house. Granted, he still seemed to stick around Harry and help him with the darker tomes in his library, but he was…well…annoying.

Sirius stepped into the room, wearing white and black dress robes. "You seem to be running late," his eyebrows rose. "You were supposed to be their ten minutes ago." A ruthful grin spread across his face. "Are you trying to be late to get one over on your father? Just like you're doing with the colors of your robes?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Harry tried to withhold a smirk. "I'm going to be 'fashionably' late. And my robes are perfectly fine." Sirius was right, but Harry would never admit it out loud. Everything; from being late, for dressing in these robes, to having Ginny Weasley on his arm…would all make his father go through the roof.

His robes were very flattering. They hugged his frame and brought attention to his eyes. They were an emerald green and silver. Despite the fact they were Slytherin's colors, Lucius would find it hard to swallow that his son wasn't wearing the Malfoy colors; navy blue and silver. Harry loved the robes, regardless of the way they showed off his petite frame. They were rich and sophisticated.

Wavy strands of hair fell in his eyes as he turned to look at Sirius. "Is Ginny ready?" He had picked out her robes as well. As Sirius was coming to be their 'escort', Harry had forbid the man to wear any blue. Sirius only full heartedly agreed with him.

"She's running around the house in a nervous frenzy," Sirius grimaced. "I still will never know how you convinced Molly to allow her baby girl to go to a Malfoy ball."

Harry smirked and gave a dark chuckle. "Neither will I, Sirius…" Bright green eyes stared at themselves in the mirror.

This.

Was going to be fun.

** -SSC- **

It was a beautiful night. The Malfoy Manor was lit up, a stark contrast to the darkness outside. The guests all mingled in the extravagant backyard. A water fountain was up and running. Each droplet of water looked like shimmering diamonds in the soft glow of the fountain lights. Around the premises of the backyard, excessive lights were strung, colors varying from navy blue to silver. And to make the lighting even more remarkable, the stars were out tonight and there were small fairies flying across the dance floor.

The dance floor had countless of guests dancing back and forth to the decent music band. Their dress robes and gowns were nothing but the best. Food, full to the brim, occupied the dateless guests. Only the best chiefs had created the food platters and the alcoholic beverages.

Everything was magnificent. When Narcissa Malfoy threw a ball, everyone knew it would surpass all the others of the year.

But not everyone was happy. The guests knew they were all waiting to welcome the second guest of honor tonight before the party _really_ started. There were gifts piled up on the long head table and the Malfoy crest was hanging proudly behind the platform. But there was one Malfoy missing.

Harry grinned, standing near the trees. No one would see him from here, but he was positive that Lord Voldemort could smell his lilac scent. Nonetheless, he drank in his father's mask. It took family to know what the other was thinking behind their mask, and in short, his father was _pissed._ He didn't even need to be a Seer to feel his father's emotions; it was all in front of his eyes. His mother looked absolutely gorgeous beside her husband. Her pale hair was piled on top her head in stylish curls, showing off her elegant neck.

And they were both wearing navy blue and silver. His brother wore the colors proudly as he stood next to his date, Pansy Parkinson. The girl had grown taller…much taller. Harry knew she towered over him. Merlin, everyone was shooting up past him in height.

"Introducing Sirius Black," the butler intoned near the entrance to the backyard. Sirius stalked arrogantly down the aisle of ice sculptures and wild flowers, a mischievous grin on his face. The guests all turned and watched him. Some had open curiosity while others looked at him in disdain. Harry gave a small laugh, looking over at his father's deep sneer.

"Ready, Ginny?" They stepped closer to the butler. The man looked at Ginny with a slight sneer.

The younger girl on his arm gave a nervous nod and Harry tightened his hold, giving her feelings of tranquility. She looked decent tonight. Her wine colored hair was half up in an updo while the other half spilled down her back in curls. She was wearing a silver gown that tied up in the back with emerald trim on the hems. Her mother had simpered in surprise when she saw Ginny. Harry had to admit that she looked beautiful tonight.

"And finally," here, the butler rose his voice and gave a pointed look towards a smirking Harry. "May I introduce Harrison Regulus Malfoy and his date, Ginerva Weasley."

Harry tugged Ginny forward, aware of her body relaxing under his calming touch. They had talked about this…their entrance. Harry had told Ginny not to smile, not to speak…nothing but look like a bored witch. She had laughed at him but faltered when he told her they would have to swirl onto the dance floor right after they finished walking down the aisle. She confessed that she didn't know how to dance. And so, they had spent a whole day familiarizing themselves with the dance they would have to perform with his parents and brother.

His face lost its smirk as he started down the walkway. Sirius had just reached the end of the aisle and gave them a wink as he merged into the crowd. The crowd itself was hushed, staring at the two making their way gracefully down the entrance way. There were some whispers and scandalous stares as they saw a _Weasley_ on a _Malfoy's_ arm. As Harry grew closer, the whispers grew louder as they caught sight of his Seer mark.

"You're here on time," Narcissa greeted quietly, a sly smile on her face as she passed him. It was if she knew what he was doing and Harry knew his mother was smart enough to know exactly why he was late. Lucius gave him a cold stare before he had to turn fully around.

Narcissa and Lucius led Draco, Pansy, Harry, and Ginny onto the dance floor. It was customary on a Malfoy heir's birthday for the immediate family to dance together to start off the ball. The spectators all stood around the floor, gazing and judging the family as they passed in all their glory.

"You're fine," Harry whispered softly to Ginny, calming her down with a gentle brush to her arm.

Chocolate brown eyes looked up at him and she gave a small smile. "You have a calming air about you, Harry. I don't know how to explain it, but it sure helps at a time like this." _It's a good thing you don't know what it is, my dear._ Harry smirked.

The three pairs stood side by side, across from their female partner. The three Malfoy males stood proud and stoic, waiting for the opening music to begin. Harry lazily let his eyes rise above Ginny's shoulder to study the guests. He spotted a few people he knew of, but otherwise, they were men and women his father hadn't introduced him to yet. Sirius was in the front of the crowd. Surprisingly, he had a pensive expression on his face as he stared back at him. Not one bit of humor showed through.

Behind Sirius stood a blonde haired man, and Harry knew instantly that it was Lord Voldemort. He didn't look long, for the music started.

This was the worst part of this whole bloody ball. Dancing wasn't a problem for him, its having to dance in front of stuck up wizards while he charmed the judgmental stares. Holding in his sigh, he bowed at the waist towards Ginny. As practiced, she curtsied back daintily. And then Harry approached her and the touching and twirling started. He stared at her eyes the whole time. A very deep part of him did it to annoy Voldemort, but the other was to keep up appearances. Ginny wasn't a bad dancer, really, she seemed to merge with him easily and keep up with his strides.

They twirled past Pansy and Harry held in a sneer. His head just barely reached above her chin. How pathetic was that? Why did he have to be so short? And Draco…Draco seemed to have grown also. Ginny was a year younger than him and perhaps she would gain her mothers height and the twins'. So far, she was slightly shorter than himself, making it another good reason why he chose Ginny as his date.

Honestly, why else would he pick her?

Ah yes, to rub it in Longbottom's ugly mug. And his father's stoic face.

He needed to cheer up. The fun would begin soon and maybe he could toy with Voldemort for a while before the mimes got here.

The music stopped and Harry bowed low once again toward Ginny. Giving a respectful nod towards his parents and brother, he took Ginny by the arm and led her off the dance floor. He ignored the guests' murmurings and led her over to the fountain of punch. "Surprisingly, you didn't fall flat on your face," Harry poked fun at Ginny, acting the gentlemen role and pouring her a glass. He could feel her fatigue but her nerves were completely gone; both from his Seer magic and her confidence in not tripping during the dance.

"You taught me too well," she grinned back, accepting the crystal champagne glass.

"Isn't this adorable," a voice sneered next to them. _Ah,_ this is where the fun truly starts. From the corner of his eye, Harry watched Ginny turn toward the voice and blush at the handsome stranger. He poured himself a glass of silver dyed punch, smirking into his cup.

He turned slowly, turning to look at the blonde man. "You look good blonde," Harry commented, throwing his arm around Ginny's waist to annoy the man further. His eyes roamed over the tall frame next to him in open amusement. The short hair was tied to the nape of his neck and his clear blue eyes were startling and bright. _He_ , the Slytherin Heir, was even wearing bloody navy blue and silver.

"Ginny, this is my-,"

"…Harrison and Draco's second uncle, Kareem Malfoy." Lucius and Narcissa came up beside the Voldemort in disguise. All their bloody blue and silver eyes; the whole lot of them.

"Ah," Harry gave a grin. "Well Ginny, I'd like to introduce to you Kareem, my _uncle,_ Lucius, my father, and last, but certainly not least, my mother, Narcissa. I'd like you all to meet Ginny Weasley." The two men only stared coldly at her faltering smile. Harry glanced at Lucius, seeing the seemingly flawless beauty turn into a cold sneer. If Harry weren't the man's son, he would have been just as intimidated with the ice cold stare as Ginny was. And Voldemort…the man wasn't winning any Witch Weekly Warm Approachable Smiles either.

His mother smiled affectionately and held out a delicate hand. Harry grinned at the pale and fragile looking hand, knowing his mother was the exact opposite of her appearance.

Ginny smiled and shook it, glad to be distracted from the two daunting men.

"A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Weasley," Narcissa then turned to look at Harry after dropping Ginny's hand. Her beautiful face beamed and the shadows seemed to leave deep in her eyes. "Harrison, my son, it's so good to see you again." She sighed, blue eyes lightening. "It seems like so long since I've last seen you."

"Mother," Harry gave a true smile and stepped forward. "You look as radiant as ever." His lashes fluttered closed as he kissed her cheek. For a moment, no one was in the premises but his mother and him. He could truly act himself around her; he could drop all his masks and honestly smile. She was everything to him. Despite the fact that she had held in information about Regulus, she was the only person in his life he could trust.

She laid a soft hand on his cheek, caressing the Seer mark. "It's so good to see you," she repeated again, this time softer. Beside him, he could feel Ginny watchful and interested. No doubt she wouldn't have thought he would have such a strong bond with his mother. He wasn't ashamed of having this bond with Narcissa. After all, the woman was just as powerful as any other witch he'd met. Her smell an intoxicating vanilla…

"Look at this," another voice drawled. "Harrison was forced to bring a pubescent girl in order to stand taller than her, a rather unattractive pubescent girl." Draco laughed gleefully as he stepped up to the group. Bloody hell, it was a family reunion.

Ginny's face turned brick red and Harry was drowned in her embarrassment. Embarrassment wasn't exactly the worst emotion to experience from others, but it was definitely…uncomfortable. He gave her confident waves, watching as the color drained from her face and she put her chin up. Even when Pansy gave a high pitched laugh, she didn't back down.

"Draco," Narcissa scolded, her lips pursed.

"It's alright, mother," Harrison mocked. "Draco was just showing us his new vocabulary he learned this summer. Really, Draco, pubescent? That is a rather big word for you, isn't it? I thought you would have suggested 'chestless', a trait your date seems to possess." Pansy turned an ugly shade of red and Harry poured more shame and vulnerability towards her person, watching gleefully as tears welled up in that normal closed off pureblood expression.

"Harrison," Narcissa reprimanded again, shocked. Lucius remained quiet, watching the proceedings with a passive air about him. Kareem, or rather Voldemort, had his charmed eyes on Lucius, narrowing them. Raw anger and annoyance came off in waves from the Dark Lord and Harry briefly wondered why he was getting angry at his father.

He brushed it off a moment later as an arm came around him, forcing him into a rather solid side. "Boys will be boys, Cissy, there's nothing you can do about it." It was Sirius and the man had a damned goofy smile on his face. The whole group of occupants, minus Ginny, all turned their exasperated stares on Sirius. "Good to see you all as well. Cissy, you look as fine as ever. Lucius…" Sirius trailed off, not knowing what to address the Head Malfoy with.

It was times like these where Harry hated the act Sirius put forth. Granted the man had a natural humorous bone in his body, but being this…outright was all an act. He was hiding.

"How is the old coot these days, Black?" Lucius questioned, his lips lowering.

"Why don't you ask your son, Malfoy?" Oh, now Sirius wasn't playing fair… "After all, he's living in _my_ manor, to get away from _you._ He sees Albus on many occasions."

Jealousy came from his father and Harry dipped his head down low, hiding a pleased smile. Lucius Malfoy was notorious for having everything he wanted and it all came easily for him. It was about time he had to fight for something he wanted, despite the fact that it was his son he wanted back. Harry wouldn't consider crawling back to Lucius if the man didn't apologize for all the wrongdoings he had done in Harry's childhood.

"Headmaster Dumbledore is doing peachy," Harry lifted his head and glanced at Voldemort. The man was gone. "It's a pity he wasn't invited. The man has so much life to add to the party…" He trailed off looking past Lucius' shoulder, but avoiding the man's gaze entirely. "Oh look, Ginny, there's Annabel Jackals, that author you like. Why don't we go over and greet her?" He reached over to take Ginny's hand and led her away from the mess that was his family.

Merlin. They were pathetic. And each one of them harbored their own secrets and dark emotions. It was kind of fun to pick apart.

** -SSC- **

Harry was bored.

No, he was uninterested, worn-out, tired, and just…bored. It had been an _hour_ , a bloody hour since anything interesting had happened. And an hour of mindless chatter with politicians and dancing. What more could he ask for in an hour? Well, _some_ excitement would have been nice. Perhaps a witch's brawl over a man, a food fight, blood shed, death, torture…Merlin, even a rat escaping with some food would have been nice to witness. He despised politics and dancing.

It wasn't until the last dance that Harry decided on creating his _own_ entertainment. With his Seer magic, he focused on a few victims on the dance floor; especially the stuck up females and males. Like Pansy, he poured vulnerability in their persons, watching in glee as they stumbled and fell on the floor. Ginny thought it was funny, despite the fact she didn't know her date was causing such a ruckus.

The Minister of Magic had arrived not too long ago and Harry was watching the blubbering idiot make his rounds with the herding witches and wizards. Cornelius Fudge looked ecstatic to have so many surround him and Harry thought it amusing that people actually wanted to greet the man. It wasn't until he saw Kareem, Lord Voldemort, that he became suspicious. The Dark Lord strutted up to the man and shook hands.

Green eyes widened at the scene, having déjá vu. If he looked close enough, he could see the small insect crawl from the Dark Lord's sleeve up into Fudge's.

The Dark Lord exchanged some more kind words with the man before turning around. Instantly, his charmed eyes locked with Harry's. A wicked smirk crossed the man's lips.

Harry turned around to Ginny. The girl was talking to one of the men her father worked with at the Ministry. Thinking it was alright to leave her; Harry gave a pointed look toward the Dark Lord and escaped the party. He hurried deep into the maze of vines and flowers, well aware the Dark Lord was following behind him eagerly. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest at the prospect of meeting the powerful Dark Lord again. It shouldn't be like this…but he couldn't stop the affects on his body.

He stopped in a clearing, eyeing the stone bird bath filled to the brim in crystal clear water. Wild and hazardous thorns grew around him… a perfect setting to meet with the Dark Lord.

Harry could sense the man before he saw him. Voldemort glided out of the thorns, looking like graceful death. The grin the man was sporting was anything but comforting and consoling. "Harrison," he hissed silkily, eyeing the smaller man's robes in a lustful light. With poised movements, he circled Harry like a predator.

"I knew you'd like the robes, My Lord," Harry grinned, keeping forward while Voldemort circled.

"You wore them just for me, I'm flattered." Warm breath tickled his ear and wandering hands circled his slim waist in a provocative matter.

"Regrettably, no, I wore them to irritate my father." He turned his face slightly, their noses more or less touching. "But what I want to know is what insect you injected in the Minister of Magic's skin."

Clear blue eyes gazed at the Seer mark on his cheek. "You Saw," Lord Voldemort stated; seemingly rather put out. "No matter, you ask too much. I will not give out the information as of yet." Harry grimaced, pulling away from the Dark Lord at a safe distance.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared levelly at the man beneath his lashes. "You're no fun, no fun at all." He sniffed, looking away. "Well, in that case, you won't need to know what I've leaned while living with Sirius."

"Did you really gather information, Harrison?" Voldemort's tone turned dangerous. "Or are you just enjoying yourself too much, especially around the red headed bitch?" _Oh, jealousy._ But no, Voldemort was never jealous, he only grew possessive. "From what I see tonight, you two seem awfully close for my liking." Harry wouldn't confess to the man that he _was_ having fun at Sirius', but only because he was using them all as his puppets.

"Don't get your knickers in a bundle, My Lord." Harry grinned at the outraged expression on the man's face. No one, not one, would have ever uttered those words around the powerful Dark Lord. "I'm just playing my part, acting the perfect gentlemen. I found out that Longbottom harbors feelings for Ginny Weasley. By taking her with me tonight, I was only rubbing her crush for me in his face…and in my father's." He gave a delicate shrug. "You can use her to lure Longbottom into his death trap."

There was silence.

Harry looked sharply up at the man. "What?"

Voldemort, for his part, looked cool and nonchalant. "I don't want to kill Longbottom."

Harry felt his heart skip a beat and he spluttered, a rather out of character thing to do. "Excuse me?" Was he hearing right? What was it about Longbottom that everybody loved? Why did everyone desperately _need_ Longbottom? What made him so bloody great? Already, Harry felt his hate for the boy increase with Voldemort's confession.

" _You know what I told you about my Horcruxes, correct?"_ It was spoken in Parseltongue, incase anyone overheard.

"Yes," Harry replied darkly. He was subconsciously aware of the heavy locket around his neck.

" _He is a Horcrux of mine. An unintentional Horcrux, but nonetheless, he is carrying a part of me."_ It felt as if ice ran down his throat and then his stomach lurched, falling to his feet uselessly. Longbottom was Lord Voldemort's Horcrux? Harry didn't know what to think about that, but he couldn't help but to feel…jealous. Why did he feel jealous of Longbottom for carrying a piece of the Dark Lord's soul?

Because he was.

Now Neville Longbottom would receive special treatment, not only by the light side, but also the dark side. He was a bloody crowned prince in this war. And all he did was sit on his fat arse, laughing with his close friends; friends who would do anything for him.

Harry felt as if he would retch. Now Voldemort would try anything for Longbottom to come to the dark side, or at least capture him and not kill. Murdering and torturing Longbottom had been on Harry's mind for so long, ever since the boy-who-lived had rejected him so harshly. Voldemort didn't want him dead. It was a startling confession; one that Harry would take an eternity to get over. It made sense though. Why Longbottom always received the visions he heard about, why he had dreams, why he saw through Voldemort's eyes like that…the two had a connection. And that was one thing that Harry couldn't stand. Neville Longbottom had a connection with Harrison Malfoy's Match.

They were connected in a way that Harrison and Voldemort could never be.

And that hurt him more than he wanted to admit. And it hurt that his Match wanted to keep Harry's enemy alive.

"I see," Harry said quietly, his high spirits gone. He hid his jealousy and slight betrayal very well, not even Pythia would have detected it. "I see…" he repeated again. "And you want me to court him to the dark side?" His voice was numb of any feeling.

A hand fell on his cheek, bringing his attention towards the glamoured Voldemort. A strange and deep part of Harry thought the Dark Lord would sympathize with him about wanting Longbottom on his side. But what he said next made Harry even angrier. "Yes, that would be ideal. If not, we will come up with a plan to capture him."

Harry gave a breathless laugh, nodding and stretching his lips into a cold smile. "Of course, My Lord."

He had so many scenarios of what could come about this meeting. He craved the feel of Voldemort's lips against his own, he wanted to taste the Dark Lord's blood once again…he wanted to ask about the significant five and what Voldemort planned with his brother, but all his dark desires vanished the moment the man spoke of Longbottom. Why he had even thought he wanted a relationship with the Dark Lord again, was beyond him.

This was all just…strictly business. It's all that would ever come out between Voldemort and him.

Harry knocked the hand from his cheek. "Hello father," he greeted coldly over Voldemort's shoulder.

Lucius appeared in the clearing slowly, his fair skin and hair seemingly glowing mystically in night. "Harrison, My Lord," he bowed low at the waist. "I've come to collect you, Harrison, for the dinner and gift giving." Voldemort was glaring coldly at his father, a sneer marking his face.

"Lucius," Voldemort clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "Aren't you going to tell Harrison what you've planned to do with Pansy Parkinson?"

Harry raised an eyebrow, stepping around Voldemort and closer to his father. He stood before the man, looking closer at the man who gave him life. Lucius was a very handsome man, but Harry could see the dark shadows creeping within his eyes. Something was wrong. "Harrison," Lucius stepped forward, reaching out a hand that looked oddly desperate. "I've been thinking this summer, during your absence, about how I've raised you."

Green eyes widened slightly. Lucius Malfoy was going to apologize? He hadn't planned on this. He would have thought that by arriving late, not in the Malfoy colors and Ginny on his arm- that his father would distance himself further.

Lucius glanced at the Dark Lord, hoping to confess this in private, but the man wouldn't budge. "I have realized my flaws," he started again, dropping his hand. "You are a perfect son, Harrison. Where I came up that you weren't, I will never know. It might have been your appearance at first…" he trailed off and Harry looked away from him, toward the thorns. "But…it was other things that clouded my vision." Harry didn't miss the quick glance at the Dark Lord. He knew exactly what Lucius was talking about. Draco was picked by the Dark Lord as someone special…but what…Harry didn't know.

"When you left for Sirius Black's house, I realized the fault in my ways. You're brilliant, Harrison, not only in your education but you shine in every other aspect; just like every Malfoy is supposed to be. Your mother thinks your all Black, but I know differently. Only a Malfoy is as well rounded as you are."

"Get to the point, Lucius," Voldemort hissed in both anger and impatience.

Lucius gave Harry a distracted glance. "Bellatrix told me about the incident involving you and our Lord." Harry grimaced, glancing quickly at Voldemort. "I was worried for you, so I asked Mr. Parkinson for his permission to allow Pansy and you to begin the Untouchable Ritual. He denied of course, but the intention was there. I must confess…" Harry stood stunned, allowing the silence to overpower.

He had often seen this characteristic of Lucius' involving only his mother and Draco. But never once did Lucius show this strong protective instinct toward him. Lucius was such a proud family man; Harry knew he would do anything to protect his children and wife. And in doing the Untouchable Ritual, Lucius thought he was doing the right thing for Harry by protecting his son from any harm the Dark Lord would inflict sexually and emotionally on him. And to go against his Lord for his son…

Harry shook his head, well aware of Voldemort watching him closely. "I'm disappointed that you would attempt to do something without talking to me first, father." Lucius must have been expecting this, for the man gave a small nod, his eyes hard. " _But,_ it shows me that you really have been thinking about our relationship and that you would care enough for me to protect me. I understand why you did this, father, and I respect you for your reasons."

Lucius' eyes widened slightly while the Dark Lord hissed in anger.

Harry ignored the Dark Lord and swept closer to his father. "I apologize for ignoring you as a child, Harrison. It will never happen again." And Lucius held out a hand to shake. Harry gave a small grin, stepping forward and hugging his stiff father briefly. He let go quickly and started to lead his father out of the clearing.

"You won't need to worry about the Dark Lord and I, father. That scene Bellatrix witnessed would be the one and only of its kind, trust me on that." They walked away from Voldemort, Harry ignoring the eyes drilling on his back.

He couldn't find it in his heart to dwell upon Longbottom's and Voldemort's relationship when his father, _Lucius Malfoy_ , had just apologized to him. It was an unheard of event, one that Harry would cherish forever. In apologizing and coming out to Harry like he had done, Lucius was sincere on his words.

Harry would never forget the pain Lucius had caused in his childhood, but he could forgive his father for now. He would wait to see how much he could forgive and trust Lucius once he experimented with their new relationship.

All awhile, Voldemort watched him pensively.

** -SSC- **

Harry was finished eating, watching from the raised platform as the other guests enjoyed and discussed topics back and forth with one another. They seemed to be enjoying the time and the food, which was more than Harry could say. The food was great, yes, but he was bored again. Draco and he were the only ones on the raised table, their parents and their dates sitting at the lower table.

And Draco was a complete bore.

"Excited to go back to Hogwarts?" He asked, striking a topic. Draco was stiff shouldered, nibbling on a piece of meat. Harry wasn't aware how much he missed his brother's table manners until he remembered the Weasley's and their smacking. Really, he had actually missed something about Draco. Surprise. Should he mention that? Or would Draco just ignore him like he had been doing all night?

"I see you made up with father," it was said harshly. "You must be ecstatic, finally having both your parents licking the heels of your boots."

Harry tore at the silk napkin, narrowing his eyes on his brother. "What is your problem now, Draco? Really, I'd like to hear why you have such a problem with me." He probably wouldn't have cared any other day if his father hadn't apologized to him. It opened his eyes to his family, realizing they would always be there for him. Rather sappy, but family was something his mother always drilled into his head since day one. They were always there, whether you hated them or loved them. Or maybe it was the fact that he knew Draco was destined to die young…and his guilt made him want to…forge a small bond between him and his brother.

Draco and he were always on ends. Harry hated him because the boy had Lucius' favor and Draco hated Harry because…well, he didn't know exactly. At first Harry thought it was because Draco had been embarrassed by him, but he wasn't too sure now.

"You want to know what my problem is with you, idiot?" Well, there was another reason Harry disliked Draco. "Maybe its because you are always strutting around Hogwarts like you own the place, or you have a bond with mother that I can never dream about, or maybe its because the Dark Lord is supposed to like _me_ better but he always watches you in obsession. Maybe it's because my own intended, Pansy, has a crush on you. Or perhaps it's because you get better grades than me despite the fact that I study and receive private lessons. Maybe you are the most obnoxious brother ever and have everything without realizing it."

Harry blinked.

And smirked.

Merlin, he shouldn't find it amusing, but Draco was _jealous_ of him. How…cute.

"You're the idiot," Harry finally spat out. "You dwell too much on me without looking at your own life. Grow up, Draco."

Draco was the one that blinked this time around. But he didn't smirk as Harry did, he scowled. "There you go again, thinking you know everything."

"I'm a Seer, I _do_ know most things," Harry pointed out with a grin. Draco just gave a disinterested glare and returned to his food.

It was when Draco placed his fork down, finished, when Harry was aware of their _special_ guests. They surrounded everyone, ready to strike at the exact moment. Harry would be the only one aware of them because he knew they would be here. Perhaps Voldemort would realize a second before it happened as well, but they were rather stealthy. He couldn't sense any of their magic or their feelings, which was odd…

Draco pushed away his plate and grabbed a gift. It was the same gift Harry Saw in his vision. This was when they killed his brother. But Harry was feeling generous tonight. He would save his blonde brother.

Said brother looked over at him and sneered. Tapered fingers unwound the ribbon and Harry pushed his chair over, the furniture clattering against the ground. With a shout, thinking he was too late as he saw the green curse, he tackled Draco onto the table. They slid across the satin table cloth, falling off the platform and landing heavily on the ground. Behind them, Draco's chair exploded as the _Avada Kedavra_ hit it.

Screams broke through the night and Harry jumped up from Draco, his wand already out and ready. The mimes, with their brilliant crimson robes, were out of the shadows, pointing their wands at a few hysterical guests. They weren't attacking like his vision, just stiff, almost doll like. His earlier calculation of their appearance was slightly off as well. They didn't have masks, but their faces were painted in precise strokes. The skin was a startling white and their eyes and cheeks were dolled up with swirls and tear drops while their lips were either parted in a frown or smile. The were easily mistaken for masks, because they didn't move a single muscle in their face…not even their lifeless eyes blinked.

Their attire consisted of the crimson robes, but underneath was a black and white striped shirt with black slacks. Each of the mimes had one white glove and one black glove.

"No alarm, no alarm…" a voice whispered but it was powerful enough to carry through the guests ears. Harry shivered at the tone, narrowing his eyes as a form stepped before him. "We mean no harm… yet. We only request possession of the Seer."

Eyes landed on him, but he had already ducked unseeingly in the shadows. At the moment, he was behind the man who approached, eyeing the figure up and down. He couldn't believe what he saw… the man was very unique in his dress. He was obviously the leader of the mimes.

"Harrison Malfoy, where is he now?" The guests stayed silent, staring at the tall man in horror and fascination.

Adrenaline pumped through Harry as he stepped out of the shadows. "And who might you be?" Harry queried.

The man turned around and Harry took a step back, eyes widening slightly. "Lord Octavio, master of the Mimes." Brilliant pink eyes sparkled. "And _you_ , my precious Seer, are going to be my new puppet, strings and all."


	12. You Don't Want to Escape

** Chapter Twelve: You Don't Want to Escape **

"I am Lord Octavio, master of the Mimes." Brilliant pink eyes sparkled. "And _you_ , my precious Seer, are going to be my new puppet, strings and all." It took a long while to register these words. After all, the person who spoke them took a _long_ while to get used to as well.

He was tall and painfully thin, but his long black tuxedo covered that up well enough. He wore a bowler hat which tipped sideways in order to cover up his left eye…but it brought attention to his painted face. Like all the other Mimes, his skin was off-white. But his painting marks were bright green instead of black. Small triangles were painted underneath his pink eyes and a tear slid down one of his cheeks. He didn't have a smile or frown on his face, but an excited smirk.

What was even more interesting was his hair. Underneath the bowler hat, bright green hair stuck out in messy strands. The man was a complete mystery.

"Am I?" Harry questioned sarcastically.

The Lord of Mimes stretched his arms out wide, signaling towards the Mimes. "You will be one of them, my sweet, but much more _special_." Harry watched as Voldemort slowly drew his wand, as did a few other wizards who snapped out of their stupor. Lucius was one of the many that stood in front of their wives, their knuckles white from clutching their wands.

"Why do you want _me,_ specifically? And what is your purpose?" Perhaps if he kept the man talking long enough, Voldemort could destroy the Mimes from the inside out. But he did want to hear about this man's purpose in the war. "And whose side are you on in the war? Dumbledore's or the Dark Lord's?" He knew it wasn't the latter, after all, Voldemort would have mentioned it to him before he spilled the fact out that Longbottom was his bloody Horcrux. And in his vision, the Mimes were attacking the dark wizards…

"So many questions, my Seer," the Lord of Mimes chuckled, stepping closer to Harry. "I'm surprised you didn't _See_ your questions. Isn't that what you're supposed to do? After all, you saw your brother's death." Harry raised an eyebrow, not backing away. The man sighed dramatically, his tear seemingly moving when his cheeks clenched. "I suppose I can satisfy your hunger, my Seer. After all, it _is_ your birthday and my first night of coming out to the world."

Voldemort wasn't moving. He was just lounging in his chair, eyeing Lord Octavio with hidden amusement and cold assessment. His wand was out, but it was pointed to the ground. The Dark Lord clearly didn't even consider this man before Harry as a threat. Harry didn't really blame the man. Octavio didn't smell like power. Even Ginny Weasley had more smell to her aura then this man here. Even his army had no smell…no emotion.

But that's what put Harry off guard. Why couldn't he sense them? Did they have a natural barrier against Seers?

"My purpose is to get rid of these stuck up dark wizards and to kill and use every Seer in this bloody world. They wield too much power for their own good and they go against Fate." The man's painted lips grinned. "As far as who I am sided with, I tend to go solo. But if you'd like to compare me with someone, Dumbledore is your best bet. Although…he doesn't go around destroying the dark wizards in the correct way."

"And the correct way is what exactly?" Harry questioned. "Killing?"

The guests all seemed to relax slightly, underestimating Octavio, which was a bad move on their part. Harry fed the crowd waves of anxiety and fear, watching in satisfaction as they stiffened again.

Octavio raised his eyebrows at the crowd's reactions and turned a knowing look on Harry. "My dear, killing is so… _melodramatic_. But in a way, yes, I suppose I do kill the dark wizards. But I pick up _very_ nicely." There was something in the man's eye that sent Harry on edge. He stepped backward and to the side, inching closer to the guests of the ball.

The Lord of Mimes cocked his head, dark pink eyes studying him in a curious- almost child-like air about him. "I like you." Harry frowned. "I had the intention of attacking you, sweet Seer, but I think I like you too much to kill you. You are far too pretty to waste behind such a mask as there's…"

Octavio leaned forward, his green lips close to Harry's own. The latter refused to back down. "And you don't underestimate me like the rest of these idiots do." Harry blinked, pulling away and pointing his wand at the man.

"They might underestimate you, but have no doubt they'll fight back if necessary." Octavio leaned on his heels, using his full height as advantage, and laughed. The sound set Harry's shoulders even stiffer.

"You are such a _doll_." His hand reached out to touch Harry's head, caressing the dark hair. "I have no intentions on _fighting,_ Harrison Malfoy. I only want to give you a taste of what you're group will be fighting against. After all, I don't want to make you cry on your birthday, I'm not _that_ cruel." Here, Octavio gave a high cackle, one that set Harry's teeth on edge. "And I certainly don't want to scar that pretty little face of yours." Here, Voldemort finally stood up, his expression annoyed. "I have to admit, I was expecting someone far younger for Pythia's star pupil. She doesn't seem to like to take on older students…but I can't complain. You are a rather…nice _surprise_."

His tone was far too suggestive and Harry's fingers tightened on his wand. "What have you done with Pythia?" Was Blaise's mother alright? Did Lord Octavio get to her first?

"No, sweet; Pythia is regrettably still living. But she can't hide forever. You see, where as I am going to have fun with _you,_ I'm going to kill her and make her a Mime. It's much too fun to pass that up…"

"I think we've had enough of this…mindless discussion." Voldemort came forth, his body squeezing in front of Harry. "I suppose introductions are in order," Voldemort whispered softly, far too quietly for the guests to hear.

"I know who you are," Octavio smirked, pink eyes flaring in amusement. The man seemed to be high off giddiness. "The all _mighty_ Dark Lord Voldemort," if Voldemort was surprised that the man knew that, despite his glamour, he didn't show it.

"Then we can skip right down to business," Voldemort stepped closer, their heights equally imposing. Where as Voldemort was sneering slightly, Octavio was grinning happily- his bright green lips stretched. "This _doll,_ you wish to gain possession of, is already purchased."

Harry rolled his eyes upward in aggravation. He glanced at the Mimes around the guests, only to find them still motionless. They didn't even look alive. And how was it, that they were emotionless? That should be impossible. Everyone had some sort of emotion… he narrowed his eyes at them, on guard.

"Are you referring to yourself?" Octavio blinked innocently. He was an amusing and interesting sight, someone Harry desperately wished he could get to know further. He didn't meet many men and women who were like Lord Octavio…it was some excitement in his dull life. "Because I find it even more enthralling that I can gain possession of such a treasured piece of property."

Harry grimaced, stepping forward slightly. "And where can I find this piece of _property_ you two speak of?" He interrupted angrily, eyeing Voldemort in distaste. Honestly… "You wished to show me a demonstration of your power, Lord Octavio. And I wish to see if you are a worthy enough enemy to even take notice of. So far, you have not sparked any sort of interest or uncertainty in me."

Pink eyes swirled onto his own and the Mime smiled. "Of course, my doll, I would be honored. You're itching for a show? I will give you one." Octavio raised his hand, snapping his gloved fingers. It didn't make a sound, but it appeared to be signal enough, for the Mimes around the guests attacked.

Harry, having put the emotion of fear in the guests, was proud to see that it had been a good move. They had been ready for an attack. Backing away from Octavio, he slowly poured confidence in the guests' abilities. "Oh, my Seer, so _unfair_ …" Octavio purred, reaching out and snatching Harry around the collar. "I can sense when you do that…pity they don't realize it's you."

"Hands _off,_ " Voldemort hissed in an irritated tone and threw a magenta curse toward the Mime Lord. It hit the man, causing him to let Harry's collar go, and fall to the floor. Rather surprisingly, Octavio tipped back his head and laughed.

Suddenly, a Mime stood in front of his Lord. Harry got a whiff of the Mime and grimaced. The Mime gave off such a stench… and those painted eyes had no spark…no life. Could it be?

Harry gave an intake of breath, getting goose bumps on his neck. Stepping past a disgusted Voldemort, he stood in front of the Mime. Before the creature could wave his wand, Harry sliced his own wand in a fierce arc, testing his theory. And as he cut off the Mime's left arm, he gave a startled gasp.

There wasn't any blood.

Lord Octavio was a bloody Demon. By the looks of things, he was a Death Demon, the cousin of the Necromancer. He thrived on capturing and killing wizards using them as puppets, or in this case, mimes. Death Demons not only used their prey, but also drank the blood and ate the intestines. They _lived_ off their prey's life source, their minds, their power… These Mimes all around them were dead in all senses- only being guided and moved by the command of their Master.

No wonder Lord Octavio despised Seers; simply because Demons worked _for_ Fate, Seers had the power to go against Fate and become free of her grasp.

"A Death Demon," Harry whispered, his wand still pointing on the motionless Mime.

Octavio stood up from the ground, brushing down his full dress tailed tuxedo. Voldemort's aura grew around him at Harry's confession but Octavio just grinned crookedly at him. "Look at you, doll, you _are_ a smart one. Pity you had to ruin my Mime…I was looking for a new replacement anyway." Harry felt his own aura rise in match of Voldemort's, his hair standing on end at the Demon in front of him. Never…he had never thought he would actually witness a Death Demon. They usually kept to themselves.

"But…" here, Octavio gave an overwhelmed sigh, looking about the party. The guests were fighting against his Mimes, some holding their nose at the stench that gave off as the Mimes moved. "Which guest should I take as my Mime?" Dark pink eyes glanced at Harry. "Should it be the boy that was meant to die? Your brother? Or how about your father?" He tisked and Harry grew stiffer. "Or, should it be your _mother_? She would look delicious as my Mime, don't you think?"

Harry saw red and he let out an animalistic growl.

He lunged at Octavio, his magic spitting around him. The Mime in front of Octavio was easily destroyed by Harry as he charged forward. "Temper, Harrison, temper," Octavio laughed as he dodged Harry's spell, sending his own one back. Harry blocked it efficiently, his wand hot in his grasp.

He hadn't dueled like this…ever. He had the magic and the power to keep up with the best, but he'd never dueled anyone as good as Octavio. The Lord of Mimes laughed again, grinning ear to ear. The tear mark on his cheek taunted Harry.

"You're so fun to play with," Octavio sent a whip like curse toward Harry. It evaporated at Harry's shield. But Octavio didn't seem bothered, his grin only widened. "But I'm afraid I must get my next victim." With that, he disappeared in a cloud of smoke, his chuckle fading.

Harry whipped around, witnessing Voldemort dueling easily with the Mimes. The Dark Lord had his watchful eye on Harry, though; his duel was not affected in the least for his lack of attention. His victims crumbled as they faced him. But Harry didn't pay too much heed to Voldemort as he anxiously scanned the crowds. For mindless and dead wizards, they sure did hold their own. But he wasn't looking at them; he was searching for the Lord of Mimes.

And then he spotted Octavio. The man gave him a wiggle of his fingers, an attempted wave, as he stalked closer to Narcissa. "No you don't," Harry growled, surging over the dance floor, which had become a battlefield, and closer to his mother.

His mother was the only one he would do this for…

He jumped in front of Octavio's dark spell, inches before it hit his mother's turned back. He knew it was a Demon curse before it completely took affect, and he cursed himself. But he wasn't angry he sacrificed himself for his mother.

His mind fogged and his vision blurred slightly. With his gaze on Octavio, he saw the man grinning knowingly. The Demon _knew_ Harry would do such a thing.

Rather suddenly, his limbs moved without his permission. Octavio was smirking, knocking away a curse that flew in his direction. It appeared to come behind Harry, perhaps his mother. The spells died down as Harry approached the Demon, Narcissa too frightened she would hit her son. "Look at you, doll, you are _my puppet_!" Octavio cackled, urging Harry closer.

His arms rose forcibly and flung around the Demon's neck. Inside, Harry was hissing in disgust as his face inched closer to the Death Demon. And in Octavio's mind grasp, Harry kissed the man. Their lips locking heatedly. Octavio hummed and circled his own arms around Harry's waist bringing him closer. And then, the lips left his. Rather stupidly, Harry leaned his forehead on Octavio, feeling the Demon's nose trail down his jaw and toward his neck. And then sharp fangs pierced his throat.

Harry didn't scream, although he wanted to at the incredible pain, he was under the Demon's spell. Before the pain could continue, the cloudiness left his head and the sharp teeth left his throat. The smell of lilacs filled the air as Voldemort's magic surrounded both Harry and Octavio. He didn't know what the man did, but the Dark Lord broke the spell.

The Lord of Mimes gave a pout. He was on his knees, quivering in pain at Voldemort's magic. "You tasted so well too, doll." A tongue lashed out and licked up the crimson stain on his green lips.

Voldemort's blonde hair landed in his face as he stood in front of Harry, thrashing raw magic toward the fallen Demon. "Be gone, you idiot Demon." Harry attempted to get to his feet, holding a hand to his bleeding neck. Through hooded eyes, he watched as Voldemort started chanting something Gaelic and motioned his wand in complex patterns. He knew, without a doubt, that Voldemort was trying to banish the Demon from earth.

Regrettably, Octavio disappeared from his kneeling position despite the pain the Dark Lord was pouring on his body. Voldemort paused in mid chant, narrowing his eyes dangerously. Harry supposed if he had been coherent enough, he could have created the sense of more pain to Octavio to make him stay motionless. But he was trying to stop the blood flow to his throat.

The Lord of Mimes appeared across the clearing. His stance was slightly weakened, but that didn't stop the grin that stretched across his lips. Muscles convulsing, he secured his hat that had stayed on during the small battle. "Tell me doll," Octavio smiled, pulling at his green hair and licking a smudge of green paint off his lips. "What is your favorite color? Shall I go silver next time we meet? I always thought you'd enjoy crimson… which is it?"

Voldemort hissed, crimson eyes showing through his charmed blue eyes. Taking it as his cue to leave, Octavio vanished before Voldemort's curse could hit its mark.

And all around them, the Mimes vanished after their master, plunging the night into silence. There were murmured whispers of confusion and fright, while most of the older wizards stayed silent, assessing the scene and tending the wounded. Looking through his thick lashes, Harry noticed the light wizards were all unscathed. They weren't attacked during the raid…

"Harrison," Narcissa got down on her knees beside him, not minding as the ground stained her satin gown. "You foolish boy…you foolish child…" She healed the wound on his neck and then petted his hair.

"I'm perfectly fine, mother." He pushed her away, not wanting to appear weak in front of the guests. "He would have killed you if the spell hit you. I had to." He stood up without any aid and attempted to wipe away the excess blood.

From the corner of his eye, he watched as Voldemort blended in with the crowd. That was probably a good decision on his part. The guests that had watched him probably would have been suspicious of the power he revealed. "Is everyone alright?" Narcissa Malfoy questioned, looking at the guests.

Harry watched her go. There weren't many wounded. And there weren't any dead. Ginny sat in the corner, huddled with a few other young witches. They were all light, or, undeclared. She stood up as she met his eyes. He gave her a quick nod, silently telling her he would be with her in a moment. He could feel her worry and concern…he could feel everyone's fright and confusion and he slowly settled down their nerves- giving them feelings of relaxation and gratefulness that they survived.

Eventually, the frightful whispers blew away and the normal tone of conversation flittered across the backyard. They were settled, speaking to one another in mild curiosity.

Harry gave an approved nod and slowly made his way over to Ginny. On his way, he caught sight of Draco. His brother was standing near Pansy, but his cold grey eyes were on Harry. There were no feelings of resentment or dislike, only cool inquisitiveness coming from Draco. Harry knew his brother would have a lot to think about, and turned his back on the boy, closing in on Ginny.

"What was that?" She asked breathlessly, reaching out the cling on Harry's dress robes. Her eyes were on the remaining blood on his neck. "Who were those wizards?"

It was the question every single guest had.

Granted, they hadn't come up with the same conclusion that Harry and Voldemort had. Most of their attention was on the Mimes fighting, too focused on their opponent to really pay attention to Harry. At least he wouldn't have to explain that Octavio was a Death Demon… he probably would to his parents, but other than that, let them grasp their own conclusions.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Harry whispered, placing his hands on her shoulders. Over her head, he saw Voldemort lurking in the shadows, staring at them unblinkingly. He shifted. "Are you alright?" He focused his attention on the Weasley in his arms. She was oddly concerned for him and he had never experienced someone other than his own mother feel that emotion for him. She wasn't too unattractive either…just far too young and naïve for him.

He had to remind himself that _Longbottom_ liked this girl. Why would he even consider approaching a relationship with someone Longbottom found appealing? Of course, he _could_ use her, but there would be no strings attached in their relationship.

"Harrison," a voice drawled behind him. Harry turned to see his father standing poised. "I would like for you to come with me. We must address the guests on the situation."

Harry turned to look at Ginny, acting the perfect gentleman. She smiled and nodded. "I'm fine, go."

Pecking her on the cheek, he turned and followed his father.

** -SSC- **

"There have been very few wounded, but aside from that, I am happy to say there were no permanent damage." Lucius Malfoy looked proud and collected as he stood before the guests. On his right, stood both Harrison and Draco and on his left, stood his beautiful wife.

They were all beautiful people, Ginny thought sulkily.

She pulled at her gown self-consciously and gave a grin toward Harry. She was beyond ecstatic when Harry asked her to accompany her to his ball. Ever since she was a child, she had always dreamed of an extravagant ball with a gorgeous gown, gorgeous decorations, and an even more gorgeous date. And she got it all. The only thing was, Harry wasn't gorgeous, he was striking. Having such beauty in a male was unheard of, but Harry passed it beautifully.

And he was a perfect gentleman too. She didn't understand why Ron, Hermione, and Neville always seemed hesitant to accept him in their group. Granted the Malfoy's were cold and cruel, but Harry was different. His bright green eyes were inviting and his smile was to die for.

"I apologize for this unfortunate attack. Somehow they got past the wards and set their sights on my guests." Lucius Malfoy's lips gave an upward sneer she was so familiar with. "I assure you, this will never happen again on my property." There was a pause and Ginny watched Harry give a small smirk. Her eyes were glued to her date, almost salivating at the sight of him. That Seer mark on his cheek made his appearance even more mystical.

"I would like to express my deepest apologizes," Lucius glanced at the Minister. The man hadn't been attacked, but still looked quite shaken. Ginny repressed a snort in laughter. "We do not know who these wizards were. All we could decipher for was he was aiming towards the dark pureblood families in attendance. And as you all heard, the leader of this… _group_ went by the name of Lord Octavio. Nothing else is known. If you know of anymore information, I would be glad to give you the floor."

There was silence. Ginny looked around. They didn't know anything either. All they knew was what the man had gloated about earlier. That he would destroy the dark wizards and the Seers…and make Harry his puppet- something Ginny didn't understand much.

"With that being said," Lucius continued. "I would like to thank you all for coming. If you'd like, the band will begin playing again and the food is still warm and fresh. Stay as long as you'd like."

And the music began again. Ginny turned to look at the guests. They slowly started to loosen up and some even started dancing and eating. Ginny put a hand to her stomach. She hadn't eaten much… she had sat at the same table as Pansy Parkinson and the Malfoy parents. That alone would make her appetite falter.

Turning toward the food table, she met eyes with an icy stare. She almost took a step back at the predatory look in them. Who was it again? Ah yes, she briefly remembered Harry introducing him as his uncle. There were so many Malfoy's, it was hard to keep track of. The man looking at her was handsome, but nobody could compare to Harry.

And the man started his way toward her.

She gave a quick glance at Harry, seeing that he was talking quietly to his parents and brother. He wouldn't help her…hopefully he wouldn't need to.

There weren't many people around her as he approached her slowly. His steps were graceful and… rapacious. Those eyes of his didn't loose their focused and predatory gleam as he came to a stop directly in front of her. She took a small step back; fear welled up in her throat. Why should she be scared?

"Er," she winced. Harry never stuttered and his family never stuttered…she must look like an idiot. "Hello again. You're Kareem Malfoy, Harry's uncle, correct?"

A cruel smirk lifted his mouth. "Something like that," his voice was musical…almost as hypnotizing as Harry's. "And you are a Weasley, no doubt." She blushed at the tone. "Before Harrison introduced you to me, I knew instantly that you were one of them."

Her shoulders stiffened.

"That is a breathtaking gown," Kareem started, coming closer. Ginny almost gave a sigh of relief. Maybe he wouldn't be too bad.

"Thank you-,"

"No doubt Harrison purchased it for you. You would never be able to afford such finery." Ginny's face grew hot. The man's eyes made her feel very self-conscious and shameful. "Your family goes about in second hand robes, don't they?" The man cocked his head to the side, almost if he was truly curious to know the answer. "Rather horrifying. Poor girl," he tisked, eyes mocking as he gazed at her frozen features.

"How many children does your mother have?" The man went on; unaware of the affect he was having on her. Or so she thought.

She cleared her throat, her face brick crimson. He was expecting an answer. "There are seven children."

Kareem Malfoy gave a grin, sipping at his cup. "My, my, your parents must be busy at night." Eyes, almost white in color, gazed at her coldly. "Now, is that seven children including the one she's carrying at the moment?" Ginny's felt the overwhelming urge to flee, but found her feet rooted to the ground with an unnatural sturdiness. She was beyond humiliated.

"She…sh-she isn't pregnant," she grounded back, almost crushed.

Kareem gave a light chuckle, placing his hand in front of his mouth. "Forgive me, how silly of me…I saw her just last week. She looked full to the brim at that time…it must have been those damned second handed robes." She should have been defending her family's honor by this man, but found her resolve crumbled. She tried to look for Sirius, but found the man across the yard, laughing with a group of wizards.

"Harrison is a rather stunning wizard, isn't he?" Kareem continued, throwing his arm around her shoulders. She felt contaminated. His cold eyes looked over at Harry, and they turned slightly obsessive and lustful. She shivered at the look, wondering why an uncle would look at their nephew in such a way. "Beautiful…" he purred. The hand on her shoulder tightened almost painfully. She was sure it would leave a mark.

Kareem turned and looked down his nose at her. A vindictive smile crossed his lips and Ginny felt a strong emotion of fear. There was something about this man…something that made her beyond terrified. Her knees started shaking underneath her dress and her palms grew sweaty.

_ Merlin, someone, please **rescue** me. _

Tears welled up in her eyes as fear clogged her chest.

"A pity you and he would never work out. He's beautiful, you're rather unattractive…he's rich, you're beyond poor…" the man gave a cold chuckle. "Why did you even _come_? Surely you didn't actually think you belonged here? You're a Weasley, you dirty his name, Merlin, you dirty every place you lay your repulsive hands on." The words were hissed.

Ginny gave a muffled sob, refusing to cry, refusing to show him her tears fall. The arm around her shoulders was heavy with hate. Never before had she experienced this amount of fear and hate. Her eyes found Harry, watching as her date looked up. Green eyes assessed the situation and then widened slightly. And with that, Harry dashed towards them.

Kareem witnessed his approached and hissed in pleasure. Leaning down, cold lips touched her ear. "Do you know the real reason you're here, Weasley?" She gave a whimper as the overwhelming fear began to grind on her. "Because Harrison wanted to get one over on his father. He knew his father would disapprove of a Weasley on his son's arm, which is why he brought you. Isn't that just…amusing?"

She suddenly felt courage well up inside her. With an angry cry, she slapped the man hard across the face and ran off.

His laughter followed her.

** -SSC- **

He knew exactly when he saw them together, that it couldn't have been a good situation Ginny was in. Immediately, he left his parents and all but ran towards Voldemort and Ginny. He witnessed the Dark Lord lean over and whisper something in her ear. He could feel her overwhelming fear and cursed.

He pushed a more than necessary amount of courage towards her, watching as she slapped the Dark Lord across the face and run off. Grinning, ear to ear at the girl's antics, it faltered a moment later when he saw the tears streaming down her face and the laughter coming from the Dark Lord.

It was then when he remembered Blaise's words…

" _He will stop at nothing to get you, Harry. Don't underestimate him just because he sees you as an ally. The man is dangerous. He'll destroy anyone in his path to you. Anyone. He'll try every underhanded trick to annihilate them just so he has you. He's the Slytherin heir…even if your significant lover leaves you for what seems like natural reasons- it'll be his deceitful and sly moves that make them leave."_

Blaise was right. The Dark Lord would eliminate _anyone_ who he thought was too close to him.

But that would mean-,

Oh…Merlin.

Harry faltered in his steps, eyes widening slightly as he thought more on these words. His past lovers had always cheated on him, committed fidelity with other lovers. It was a seemingly 'natural' reason by leaving him, but was there something underhanded? Was Lord Voldemort the reason Cho Chang had cheated on him? That Parvati had cheated on him?

He was even more aware of the heavy Horcrux around his neck and his thoughts became suspicious. Was it the reason?

Walking closer to the man, Harry narrowed his eyes. "What does this Horcrux do, exactly?" Voldemort lost the wicked mirth on his face as he gazed down at him.

"You need to be clearer-,"

"To my lovers," Harry spat out quietly, green eyes narrowing dangerously. "What does your damn Horcrux do to my lovers?" Voldemort sneered at the mention of 'lovers'.

"Why don't you tell me, Harrison?" The man questioned softly, charmed blue eyes flashing. "They are my enemies. Whomever you lay with are my enemies. My Horcrux recognizes this and will do anything to eliminate them."

Harry gave a dry laugh, feeling hysterical. Cho hadn't slept with another because she wanted to. Parvati hadn't kissed another because she wanted to. It was all because of the Horcrux, manipulating their thoughts- corrupting them. "They cheated on me," he informed Voldemort, looking squarely into the man's mocking gaze. The Dark Lord didn't care about their fidelity, he just seemed amused and pleased at the confession.

That angered Harry. "They scarred me. They _hurt_ me, all because of you. I think you have yourself to blame as to why I don't want to be in a romantic relationship with you."

Harry was spitting, fists curled into angry balls. "Not only are you _fucking_ clueless to my own emotions, not only do you _bloody_ not understand me, but you're the reason I hate relationships. _You,_ and you alone, are the reason why I will never find it easy to be with you, to trust you."

It was all about Neville Longbottom being his Horcrux. It was because Voldemort didn't understand that Harry _hated_ Longbottom. It was because the man didn't want to kill Longbottom. It was because Voldemort caused his fear of relationships…

Everything, it was his fault.

The man stood stoically before him, a slight frown pulling at the corner of his lips. "You, Lord Voldemort are a powerful and intelligent wizard. But you are a bloody idiot when it comes to understanding other people's feelings and emotions. It's _all_ about you. You do things that will benefit only on your behalf." Harry crossed his arms over his thin chest, lowering his voice. "I don't blame you for dismissing other people's emotions, My Lord. After all, you _are_ the Dark Lord. You can discharge your servants in such a manner, but I'm not your damn boot-licker.

"I am your Match, I am your equal. And I will require as much respect as you give yourself." The man stayed silent, his eyes unwavering as they stared at Harry. "Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you, My Lord?" Harry questioned dangerously.

Harry reared his head in an anxious matter at the thick silence. "I realize placing this amount of respect on another human being will be difficult for you, My Lord. You've lived your whole life for yourself, never for another. Just realize that you have a lot to learn before I submit wholly to you." Harry stepped closer to the man. "And trust me; I will know if you've changed your ways or not."

Sending his message across, Harry reached his hand and laid it on Voldemort's cheek. "All I want is respect from you."

The two stared at one another.

And then Harry turned his heel and went after Ginny. He would attempt to try to fix the damage Voldemort had inflicted on her.


	13. Hide From You

** Chapter Thirteen: Hide From You **

_ Grinning lips traced his jaw and Voldemort gave a hiss in pleasure. _

_ His fingers clutched the silky head of raven hair, forcing the lips closer. The aroma of lilacs and arousal filled the air, causing him to take a deep breath of the intoxications. "Harrison…" he moaned huskily, his fingers piercing the satin skin. _

_ The boy pulled away, grinning like a mischievous minx. _

_ Voldemort reached out, ready to take the boy by force, until the little brat pulled far away. "Harrison." This time his voice held a clearer quality to it, not the huskiness as before. "Come here, you bloody brat." The Malfoy minx tipped back his head and gave a cold laugh. _

" _You didn't respect me," he whispered, green eyes flashing. The boy's playful attitude vanished. Voldemort gave a grimace, hating the word 'respect'. But nonetheless, he was bemused at Harrison's change in behavior. He stared. "I warned you to respect me."_

_ And the young man's power unfolded, showing the intensity of it. Granted, they had the same amount of power and technically they had the 'same' power because they were Matches…but Voldemort always grew intoxicated with Harrison's power. It was a forbidden taste, a sweet innocence. He wanted to consume it… _

" _I don't know what you're talking about," he replied evenly, narrowing his own eyes and brought out his magic to match Harry's. His own magic was dirtier then Harry's, less appetizing. It might have been the result from splitting his soul so many times. "I have done_ nothing _,"_

_ Harry curled his lips in a grin and _ Avada Kedavra _green eyes glanced over his shoulder. He turned, ready to defend himself, but faltered a moment later. There was a small figure in the dark shadows. The silhouette showed a wizard with a bowler hat. It wasn't Lord Octavio, no; the Demon was taller than this figure. Slowly, the figure looked up, the shadows cascading down his body. With an intake of air, Voldemort took a step back as he was met with brilliant green eyes, surrounded by heavy white make-up._

" _No," he hissed, narrowing his eyes._

_ His Match was dressed up like Octavio. "This is what happens, Tom…" Harrison took a step closer. "When you disregard every word I speak." Painted gold lips twitched. "But I can't say I'm not happy with Lord Octavio by my side." _

Crimson eyes slowly slid open.

He had fallen asleep at his desk, ink staining his fingers from writing. "Harry, Harry," Voldemort tisked, closing his eyes briefly. He thought back to the boy's lips moving the words of 'respect' at his birthday ball. The boy was talking nonsense. Of course he respected the boy. Correct?

He gave a sigh, running his stained fingers through his long hair. His Match had been right in assuming that he had never had to place his respect onto another human being. When Harrison had come along, carrying with him his strong lilac magic, Voldemort knew he would have to treat this creature…decent. It hadn't been difficult at first when the boy had been a child, but now, now the child was a young man who could clearly decipher reverence and respect. Harrison would _know_ if Voldemort wasn't treating him decent.

And for the life of him, he couldn't think of any faults he had committed toward his Match. And yet. Harrison had been spitting angry at the ball. He had never seen the beautiful Malfoy loose control like that. It was almost as if…he had hurt the boy.

Didn't Harrison realize that his Horcrux was only pushing his ex-lovers away out of protection? Voldemort was only trying to protect the boy…and of course, push those pathetic lovers away for his own selfish means.

Harrison was _his._

He would never change his views on that aspect.

Harrison was his Match. It would stay that way for eternity. Their magic and souls corresponded very similarly. Why would he allow anyone to become between them?

And now Harrison was going to Hogwarts with a chip on his shoulder for Voldemort while walking right into Dumbledore's manipulative hands.

"This just won't do."

** -SSC- **

He was getting pretty damned good at controlling everyone.

But he was having difficulty controlling _himself_ around them all, especially Longbottom.

From his position in the library, he glared at the bloody idiot. All three of them were hunched together, laughing and whispering to one another. If Harry wanted to, he could probably _make_ them offer Harry a spot near them. But at the moment, he wanted to be alone. The heavy tome was laid open on a ritual page, but his gaze was drinking in Longbottom. The boy was nothing special, nothing. That lightning bolt scar on his forehead gave him the ability to go into Voldemort's mind. And vice versa.

They were like bloody lovers. Sharing each other's feelings and what not…sharing each other's damned dreams.

"Oh, Harrison, _don't_ kill Neville!" Harry whispered far too quietly for them to even take notice. His green eyes were glowing in hate and mockery of the Dark Lord. He would admit he was jealous of Longbottom for being wanted for each side of the war, but he was more angry with Voldemort for wanting to keep the boy alive. What ever happened to the Dark Lord believing that fake prophecy? Harry should have never told him that an individual didn't have to follow the 'suggested' course of fate. And the man had eight Horcruxes, what was one gone?

Longbottom tipped back his head and laughed. Harry glared, clutching his fingers over the rejected book. What was the point of looking up what Voldemort wanted to do with Draco and the other four?

_ Stop Harrison, _ he scolded himself. He was acting extremely childish.

"You look deep in thought," someone spoke next to him. He slowly turned his gaze on Ginny. After Harry had found Ginny crying into her hands in the wooded trees after Voldemort's attempted plan of making her distance herself from him, they had a deep discussion. And she didn't hate him.

" _He totally ruined my family's name," she cried. He stood above her, looking down. Instead of physically comforting her, he sent calming waves in her direction. Slowly, her sobs grew quiet and her mouth was free enough to speak. "He degraded me, Harry, he was so…cruel…"_

_ He crouched down, hesitantly reaching out to brush a stray strand from her face. "Kareem…" he hesitated, not sure how to go about this. "Kareem isn't my uncle, Ginny." She looked at him, puzzled. "Well, he is my cousin a few times removed, we call him our uncle because he's close to my father, but he's not my 'real' uncle." He moved his hand away from her crimson hair, frowning slightly. "The thing is, he's rather…obsessed with me, sexual." _

_ She blanched; a horrified expression on her face. "But you two are related-," _

" _It doesn't matter to him," he cleared his throat. "He was jealous of you, Ginny. That's why he degraded you in such a way."_

" _Jealous of me?" She whispered softly, clutching the damp grass with her fingers. "Because I was with you?" Her face showed understanding and the tears dried up._

" _Yes," Harry agreed, giving her a grin. "But also because you are a very beautiful young woman, Ginny. Really, you were stunning tonight. You glowed…" She blushed, giving a soft smile._

" _You're just being nice-,"_

" _No," Harry leaned closer to her, well aware of the effect he was having on her. "I think you are stunning, Ginny." She melted at his words, but there was still some uncertainty coming from her. And Harry gathered that Voldemort hadn't just degraded her family, but also told her why he had brought her to the ball. "I have to admit though; I brought you because I wanted to make my father angry." She seemed horrified that the words were true and Harry was bathed with the emotion of confusion and betrayal coming from Ginny._

" _But," Harry interrupted. "I have come to realize that you are someone more than just a Weasley, Ginny. At Sirius' house, you are the only one who truly sees me. You are so…innocent, so kind. You're a kind hearted soul, Ginny, someone who I could never deserve in a relationship." And it was true. She was far too innocent, too kindred spirited for him. He deserved someone as snarky as Voldemort for his own tarnished soul._

_ She smiled at him. "I think you don't give yourself enough credit, Harry. You are a very kind wizard." She cocked her head to the side, reaching out to run her fingertips down his Seer mark. "You just don't See it yet." _

And they had gotten along ever since. It was a silent spoken agreement between the two that they weren't compatible enough to be together romantically. But, she was his friend.

A friend…or something similar.

Friend; it was a foreign word to him. Ever since he was younger, all he ever wanted was a companion, a friend. And Ginny was the first witch or wizard to have just pure innocent intentions other than being there for him. Granted, he was certain he could never be 'true' friends with Ginny. His demeanor had been cold ever since his first three years of Hogwarts, being rejected time after time from his fellow classmates.

He didn't do 'friends'; not the trust, not the openness, and definitely not the sunshine and happiness. But Ginny would come close enough to one. And what's even better? Longbottom was still jealous of their relationship.

"Just thinking about Lord Octavio," he lied. The man _had_ been on his mind, just not as much as his pathetic daydreams of killing Neville. "He hasn't shown his face since."

Ginny shrugged, looking down at the tome he had lying open. "He'll come out of his hiding soon enough. I just hope he doesn't hurt you too badly, Harry." There was a pause, and again, Harry couldn't shake off the feeling of having someone actually _care._ Merlin, did he sound too soft? Bloody hell, he was going soft.

He sneered.

Ginny gave a scoff. "What are you reading?"

"Nothing," he muttered, closing the heavy lid and leaning his elbow on the cover. Lazy green eyes locked on the red head girl. "We're going back to Hogwarts tomorrow. Are you all set?" It was idle and boring conversation, something he had trouble getting past his lips. Why must he sit down and discuss such trivial things? Of course Ginny would be ready to go. Molly Weasley had yelled at her children today, drilling them to get their chores and packing done.

"Yes," she nodded and Harry's eyes grew more hooded.

Boring.

Is this what friendship was? No. Blaise Zabini was a hell of a lot more interesting than Ginny…

"You?" She asked back unnecessarily. Bloody hell, friendship _was_ boring, at least with this girl…

Harry just stared at the girl, not giving an answer. "Right," she grinned, leaning her own head on her open palm. "Remus is here. He's downstairs with Sirius. If I didn't know better, I would say the two were rather close. Closer than friends, that is." This was getting slightly more interesting.

"Who is Remus?" He questioned, drumming his fingers across the cover of the tome. From the corner of his eye, he watched Longbottom rear his ugly head toward them, watching through narrowed eyes as Ginny leaned forward.

She had a mischievous grin on her face. For show, or, rather for Longbottom, he leaned closer to her. She seemed to falter at his proximity, her cheeks flushing. He could feel her flushed anxiety, the same anxiety and excitement one would get from someone they fancied. Well, at least he wasn't loosing his touch. She still fancied him, or at least thought he was attractive. He used that to his advantage, giving her a toothy grin. She looked down at the table, clearing her throat.

"Remus Lupin," her brown eyes glanced up at him. "You promise you won't tell anyone?"

He didn't need to send the emotion of trust and comfort to her, all he had to do was grin and nod. "Well…" she started off. "He's a werewolf. I think, personally, that Remus and Sirius have…a thing going with each other."

"A thing?" He inquired, grinning at the blush she sported. So Sirius Black had a fling with a werewolf. Was that the reason why he had a natural darkness to his soul? To his magic? Was it because he was in love with a dark creature? Harry had never read up on werewolves. Granted, he knew many things about the lycan, but nothing on mating. Who knew if that affected Sirius' soul and the man was trying to cover it up?

"Ginny," Harry leaned back in his chair. His delicate fingers plucked at the worn pages from the tome. "Let's go see this Remus Lupin. I'm oddly interested." He wanted to look in Remus' soul, to sense the darkness and confirm his theory.

She pushed back her chair and led Harry out of the Black library. On his way, he completely ignored the Golden Trio's gazes, especially the angry stare from one in particular.

They made their way into the small kitchen. His eyes immediately locked with a shabby looking man. The man's robes were old and his face looked just as worn as his robes. Granted there weren't many wrinkles around the amber eyes, but in those eyes, Harry saw years of wisdom and exhaustion. His shoulders were slumped as if he carried the burden of pain and his wolf all in one.

"Harry," Sirius grinned widely, standing up. "I was just telling Remus about my infamous second cousin." He motioned for Harry to approach deeper into the kitchen. Molly Weasley was magically chopping up vegetables for the stew she was making. Her eyes were on the pile of vegetables, but her attention was on the conversation happening around her.

After Ginny greeted Remus Lupin herself, Harry stepped closer to the werewolf. Their eyes smoldered as they locked together. Harry looked inside Remus, only to blink in surprise. The man wasn't dark. He wasn't dark at all. His wolf, granted, had a bit of darkness to it, but it wasn't as strong as Harry thought it would be. Remus was far too dominant over his wolf. He kept that wild side locked up deeply in his mind. So…if Remus wasn't affecting Sirius' darkness…then…

Then that would mean that Sirius was just naturally dark. He was a Black after all. But looking at Remus Lupin, he knew _why_ Sirius was hiding behind a mask. Simply because he had true friends.

This realization frightened him. Sirius Black and he were somewhat…similar. Only, Sirius' life took an abrupt turn during his childhood while Harry's kept plodding along. Sirius had dark parents who expected so much of him. And Sirius also had a very independent nature. He wanted to break free of his parent's expectations and by doing so, he wanted to befriend companions who his parents wouldn't agree with. He had become friends with Remus Lupin, a kind soul, and James Potter- someone Harry knew who had been completely Gryffindor.

Perhaps Sirius had done it to get back at his parents, but over time, he had become true friends with these two wizards. The three had formed a strong bond. And Sirius would do anything to keep their bond together, even if it meant hiding his true nature.

If Neville Longbottom and his friends had truly befriended Harry, he was sure he would have ended up like Sirius. But Longbottom had rejected him, thus causing Harry to remain true to his dark nature.

No, Harry was more like Regulus Black by being neglected by his parents at a young age and wanting to prove himself to be just as good as his brother. But Harry could have also turned out just like Sirius Black if Longbottom had accepted him. How odd it was that the course of history could be altered with just one action. With just one acceptance. With one rejection.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Lupin." Harry held out his hand, glancing at a smiling Sirius. That smile was a true smile. And at that moment, he decided to leave Sirius alone. Granted, he still wanted to be close to him…but he wouldn't dig up Sirius' hidden dark nature. It would destroy the man completely.

"Harrison Malfoy," Remus acknowledged, reaching out his own hand and shook his. Those amber eyes were on his seer mark. "A Seer," his lips pursed into a smile. "Sirius had yet to tell me about that…ability." Here, he shot Sirius an exasperated look.

Harry grinned as their skin touched. Seers had a certain connection with magical creatures. They calmed them unintentionally. Pythia Zabini couldn't explain _why_ , but she seemed oddly smug about it. It could become a great tool in the war. If there was need for magical creatures, Seers had a way with them…

Already, with their hands clasped, Harry could see Remus' lines on his face relax and his shoulders lift. This gift was yet another reason why Seers were considered neutral and not 'dark'. Inflicting emotions and feelings onto others was considered dark, especially against one's will, but this light ability of calming magical creatures evened out the black and white. Of course, only a few number of people knew about a Seer's _true_ abilities. Most of them believed they just Saw visions.

"It's nice to meet you, Harrison." Remus breathed, his eyes closing briefly. His hand clutched Harry's, almost if he were his savior. Even though Harry enjoyed inflicting pain, both physical and emotional onto others, healing someone wasn't as disgusting as he thought it would be.

Sirius cleared his throat. He was rather embarrassed by the way a reserved Remus was acting around his 'cousin'. Remus pulled back, embarrassed himself, but Harry gave him a wink- secretly telling him it was between the two of them.

Sirius gave a bark-like laugh, throwing his arm around Harry and bringing him close. "Didn't I tell you he looked like Regulus?" Remus raised an eyebrow as he looked Harry up and down.

"No," Remus shook his head, frowning as he studied him. "I don't think he looks much like Regulus." Harry was startled at this. _Everyone_ said he looked like Sirius' younger brother. Even his mother said so. "I think you look more like Narcissa and Lucius. Granted, I do see a bit of Regulus in your hair and eyes, but Regulus was far more…rugged." Harry grinned at the werewolf. "You look like your own person, Harrison."

"Call me, Harry, sir," he liked this man. Remus wasn't like any other werewolf; he was a good mix of the two- his kindred spirit outshining anything else. Harry could never be that _good_. He would always be cynical and dark.

"Harry then," Remus sat back down. "Call me Remus."

And Harry sat down with him. After blinking away their surprise, Ginny and Sirius sat down with them.

Harry enjoyed talking with Remus. The man was smart and had many things to share. Harry knew, beyond a doubt, that when they faced each other on the battlefield, that Remus Lupin would be a worthy opponent. Hopefully he wouldn't have to destroy him.

Just after Remus shyly admitted that he would be their next Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Dumbledore came striding into the room. Harry straightened up from his slouched position, reprimanding himself for being caught off guard. The smell of spring rain filled his senses and he calmed at the scent. The Headmaster gave them all a small smile, his blue eyes shimmering behind his half moon glasses.

"It's good to see you adapting so well, Mr. Malfoy."

Harry gave a nod. "I've enjoyed my time here, Headmaster. Sirius was considerably gracious to allow me to stay with him." Sirius beamed at him and hit him on the back. Dumbledore seemed pleased by the interaction. Pity he would never be pleased if he found out how Harry had played puppet master his whole stay.

His eyes caught a glove on the old man's hand and frowned. He hadn't seen that before. Was he just not observant enough? Why was he wearing a glove on his right hand but not his left? Odd…

"You're mother owled me, Mr. Malfoy. It would seem she has requested your presence before you head off to another term at Hogwarts. Is this convenient for you?" Outwardly, Harry was expressionless. Inside, however, he was slightly unsettled. His mother wouldn't request this without a valid reason.

"Of course, Headmaster; should I grab my stuff then?" He stood up, ready to pack up hurriedly.

"Yes," the Headmaster held open the door for Harry. "You will be arriving at Kings Cross from your home. But if I may, Harry, I need to have a private word with you before you apparate home." Trepidation spread through him, but he remained calm and collected as he went out the door.

The hallway was dark, not exactly the most cheerful environment. But Dumbledore's magic seemed to lighten it up, giving the shadows a little less uncanny feeling. Harry turned his attention on the Headmaster, waiting for the man to start. "Sirius told me what happened at your birthday ball, Harry." Harry remained quiet, knowing Dumbledore had more to say. "I want to let you know, you will have my protection this year. At Hogwarts, Lord Octavio will not be able to touch you."

Rather taken aback, Harry coughed politely in his hand. "Thank you, Headmaster. That means a lot."

The old man gave a smile and with his gloved hand, he laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You are my student, Harry. It is my duty to protect you. And to ease your worries, Lord Octavio is just as much our enemy as Lord Voldemort is. He may be against the Death Eaters, but he goes about it the entirely wrong way. Killing is not the answer, Harry."

"No Headmaster, it isn't," he nodded, well aware of the weight of the gloved hand.

Dumbledore smiled once again, taking his hand back. "I would like to have a few meetings with you in the near future, Harry. We need to discuss a few things that are quite important to the war. Now is certainly not the time."

"I would be honored to meet with you again, Headmaster." The two stared at one another, both knowing the other held something private against the other.

"On a lighter note, Harry, I would like to congratulate you on your OWL scores. The top of your class along with Ms. Granger, very good indeed. You are a Slytherin Prefect this year, are you not?" Harry nodded, smiling. "Very good," Dumbledore repeated; a true smile on his lips. The man was difficult to read, like Voldemort. Perhaps it was because they were so powerful and powerful Legilimens.

"Thanks Headmaster, I try my best."

"I have no doubt in that, Harry…"

** -SSC- **

"Mother," he greeted. Harry dropped his trunk on the spectacular entry way as he watched his mother stroll so gracefully over to him, arms extended. Her mouth was twisted into a large smile.

"My sweet Harrison," she whispered, embracing him. She looked as beautiful as ever. Her robes hugged her slim frame, but showed off her womanly curves. With her hair pulled back, her sharp features were even more noticeable. "How was your stay at my cousin's house? Horrible?" She held him at arms length, brushing his hair tenderly.

"It was actually very fun, mother." He grinned at her raised eyebrow. "I played with the Weasley lot. They had no idea what a Seer's true potential is." Her wrinkleless eyes squinted in mirth. "But I have to admit, Sirius isn't all that terrible. He allowed me to burrow some of the Black's tomes from the library." He paused, his hands on her slim shoulders. "He also told me about Regulus, mother. The _whole_ story; about him being a Seer."

She gave a sigh, her lips marring into a frown. "I suppose you are angry with me, Harrison." Her blue eyes seemed to dim. "When I gave you his dagger, I gave it to you because you felt so down…so useless. I didn't want you to feel that way, so I gave you something to set your sights and determination on. You're eyes brightened so much that night, Harrison. I didn't have the heart to tell you that your cousin had failed at becoming an assassin because of his status as a Seer…your very same status."

There was silence and Harry looked past her shoulder, into the distance. "Do you think I can succeed in becoming an assassin, mother?"

He brought his attention back to her as she shook her head. A soft hand landed on his cheek. "That is a question you should be asking yourself, Harrison." Her eyes were serious… "You seem to value other people's opinion far too much when it should be your own determination that is answer enough. Are you determined enough to succeed? Do you really want to take the path of an assassin?"

He opened his mouth, ready to tell her he was, but she placed a finger on his lips. "You don't need to tell _me,_ my son. Tell yourself. Convince yourself why you're stepping down the path that you are. And you know the best thing about walking your own way, Harry?" He locked his eyes with her own deep blue. "You don't need other people's opinions to go your way."

He stayed silent, far too pensive to reply to her words. Narcissa Malfoy was the most precious woman in his life, no, she was the most precious _being_ in his life. No one could ever compare to her. "It's so good to have you back home, Harrison." Her eyes gained back her sparkle. "I hope you'll be coming home for Christmas. I have a special ball planned."

"You always have parties, mother." Harry whispered, star struck on her beauty and elegance.

She laughed. "What would I do if I cannot show off our good wealth, Harrison?" She reached over again, arranging his hair neatly. "It's so good you made up with your father. He has been very pensive these last few months in your absence. He sees his wayward mistakes and is ready to make up for them."

Throwing back a strand of her hair, she backed away from him after a quick kiss to his cheek. "He's waiting for you in his study. I shouldn't keep him waiting."

He assumed she was speaking of Lucius.

With a conscious pull to his sleeves, he swept up the marble stairs. He wondered what his father wanted to speak of. Was it important? Was this why he was needed home so quickly? "Father?" He pushed open the door to Lucius' study and stepped inside. "You wanted to see me, father?"

He eyed the high back chair. It was faced away from him. Seeing the rings on the pale fingers, settled on the armrests, Harry stepped closer to the chair until he could see his father properly.

It wasn't his father.

His lips pursed and he stood stiff. "I had a feeling it was you."

Crimson eyes met his. The man was lounged arrogantly in his father's chair, crossing his legs in a nonchalant manner. "I was going for the element of surprise." Harry couldn't smell any lilacs coming from Voldemort, which only _meant_ the Dark Lord was going for the element of surprise by covering his aura. "It was difficult to swallow when you addressed me as 'father', though."

"I suppose the age difference wouldn't do it much justice," Harry whispered, eyes narrowing. "You would be more of my grandfather."

Although he would jab at the age difference, he had to tear his eyes away from Voldemort appearance. The man was out of his Malfoy disguise…and Harry was disgusted to admit that he wasn't yet used to the Dark Lord's masculine beauty. The dark black hair was thick and long, and it was twisted into a single braid at the moment. Pale skin seemed to glow, a sharp contrast to his bright crimson eyes. The man had a dangerous beauty around him.

Harry hated it.

He crossed his arms over his chest as Voldemort grinned at the jab. "But I don't quite look like your grandfather, do I?" He must have caught Harry's interested stare.

"I suppose grandfather Abraxas and you have a few differences." He cocked his head to the side, hooded eyes surveying the Dark Lord up and down. "We can start off with the one major difference; he's dead." Harry said flatly. "What are you doing here, My Lord?"

"You're not happy to see me, Harrison? I'm disappointed." He clucked his tongue and the sound came out clear from his perfectly sculptured lips. Harry stood stiff. "I've come to tell you that I have a lead on Octavio and his…Mimes… I hope to have my men attack within a few days from now."

"That's all you have to say?" Harry's eyes flashed. "With all due respect, My Lord, I'm sure you could have relayed that message to my father without having to make a special stop."

"I don't need a reason to see my Match, Harrison." Voldemort replied coldly, those slit crimson eyes just as intense as Harry's. Lilacs spilled through the room, signaling a warning for Harry not to cross over the line. "Come closer to me."

Glancing at the barely open door, Harry stepped a few paces closer. "I must admit, that I didn't just come to tell you about Octavio." Voldemort grinned as Harry came closer. "I couldn't stand sending you off to Hogwarts when you are unhappy with me." Long fingers shot up and curled around his collar. Harry stayed his ground, aware of the Dark Lord's fingers caressing the material near his neck.

It was a surprise that the Dark Lord would admit to this out loud. Harry felt smug that the man actually thought about his words the night of the ball. Before he could draw anymore conclusions, his collar was forced downwards and his lips met with the sculptured ones below him.

The kiss was surprisingly gentle and soft. It didn't feel right at all….

Voldemort pulled back, but kept Harry close with a hand on his robes. Harry couldn't help but see the slightly put off expression the Dark Lord wore. He burst out laughing. This was good…Merlin, the Dark Lord was an idiot.

"What is so amusing?" Voldemort hissed dangerously, crimson eyes narrowing.

"You," Harry replied truthfully, grinning ear to ear. "You think by kissing me soft and sweet like this, means you're respecting me?" He chuckled again at Voldemort's sneer. The man thought he was respecting Harry by kissing him like a pansy. "My Lord, it means a lot to me that you've been thinking over what I've said." Harry said seriously, but grinned the next moment. "But just because we…we seem to enjoy things sexually rough, doesn't mean you don't respect me. You don't need to kiss me like a bloody poof."

He should have kept that last bit mentally. The man's crimson eyes glowed and he was forced down once again to meet Voldemort's lips, but this time, roughly. Harry gave a shocked moan as teeth bit through his lips, drawing blood. It pained him that he was _aroused_ by the rough treatment. Why was he? Merlin, he should be disgusted at the teeth and spit…and blood.

Hands clutched his hair sharply and brought his whole body down upon Voldemort's. It was slightly uncomfortable with his position on the chair and Voldemort. Taking control of the situation, Harry got on his knees and straddled the Dark Lord. His fingers dived into the soft hair of Voldemort and yanked the head backwards. The man gave an arousing hiss as Harry's lips trailed down his chin and closed in on his ear.

His bloody lips left a trail across the man's face, claiming him in crimson. With a wicked grin, Harry engulfed the Dark Lord's ear. His tongue lazily licked at the earlobe and sucked on it fiercely. Pulling back, he blew cold air on his spit. All awhile, hands roamed and grouped his body. "Harry…" Voldemort growled as he nibbled on the Dark Lord's ear. Rather abruptly, Voldemort thrust his hips upward, their arousals grinding. It sent a shocking current through Harry and he faltered.

His falter caused him his dominance.

Voldemort gave a dark chuckle as his hands eagerly took Harry's small body and raised him in the air. The world went in a blur as he was brought quickly out of the chair. With an intake of shocked breath, he was slammed on his father's desk. He didn't get time to catch his breath, for lips crushed onto his own- demanding submission. Harry's head became clouded and he clutched onto Voldemort's shoulders, hoping it would anchor him to reality.

Those lips, the hands…they were all so hot, so cold…it hurt and Merlin, it felt good. It was everything at once and he couldn't concentrate. He had to remember this for the future. He couldn't loose his dominance like this again. "Submit to me," Voldemort growled possessively. Harry gasped for breath, his hands twisting painfully in Voldemort's hair. He yanked at the strands, hoping to bring Voldemort the same amount of pain and pleasure he was giving him.

"Submit," he growled again, teeth marking his neck. The larger body fell on top of his, Harry becoming smashed between the desk and Voldemort. The Dark Lord grunted as he rubbed their erections together. "Damn it, _submit,_ say you'll submit."

And Voldemort wasn't asking for submission, he was asking Harry to submit fully to him. In the back of his mind, Harry played back the conversation at the ball. _"I realize placing this amount of respect on another human being will be difficult for you, My Lord. You've lived your whole life for yourself, never for another."_

" _Just realize that you have a lot to learn before I submit wholly to you. And trust me; I will know if you've changed your ways or not."_

Harry snapped his eyes open, groaning. "No," he pulled the hair again, this time away from him and not closer. "I think you know the answer as well as I do, My Lord." They stared in each other's lust-filled eyes. Both of them looked as if they had a roll in the sack.

Voldemort gave a sigh, knowing he wouldn't change Harry's mind. With a few deep breaths, he pulled away. Harry scrambled up, trying to tame his wild hair. He hated his lack of self-control. If Voldemort hadn't said anything about submitting, Harry was afraid he would have done just that. Merlin, he hadn't even remembered the vow he made to himself and Voldemort. He was an idiot. A bloody idiot.

Slowly, composed, he looked up at Voldemort. The man was just as composed as himself, intense eyes watching him. "What do I have to do to show you I respect you, Harrison?" The question wasn't mocking, nor cynical. It was completely curious.

The two shared a long stare.

"You'll know when the time comes, My Lord." Harry replied softly.

Voldemort gave a quick nod, about to leave. Harry stood up, remembering something. "Tom?" The man paused and Harry walked up to him. "I want to ask you something and I expect the truth." Red eyes looked down at him, waiting patiently. "What ritual are you using for Draco and the other four? They're all firstborns and children to your Death Eaters…I would like to know what you're doing with my brother."

He watched the man closely, but the Dark Lord showed no emotion. Crimson eyes locked deeply with green. "It's the _Cannius_ Ritual." Harry blinked, not familiar with it. "It will help in the war. Your father and the other four Death Eaters are already aware of the ritual I'm using."

"What's its purpose?" Harry questioned, pushing for more answers.

Voldemort pursed his lips. "It's purpose? Instead of just one powerful figure, me, it will allow the five children and I to share magic. We will be a force to reckon with. If I need more magic, I can draw from them and they can draw from me. A limited amount, granted, but enough to boost their aura."

Harry stayed silent. Blinking. "I find it hard to believe that you, Lord Voldemort, would share magic." Harry pursed his lips, debating. "As long as this ritual doesn't hurt my brother, My Lord, I'm ok with it."

Here, Voldemort gave a grin, a grin that Harry had trouble defining. "Your brother will not be in pain, no. You have my word on that, Harrison." The tall figure pushed Harry lightly against the wall and planted a firm kiss on his lips. No biting this time, and no extra force, but it still left Harry breathless as he pulled away. Leaning his head on Harry's forehead, Voldemort smirked. "Have a good year at Hogwarts, Harry."

He turned to leave, but paused in the doorway, turning. "And for Merlin's sake, stay out of _his_ hands."

Harry grinned, knowing the man meant Dumbledore.

Leaning against the wall, he wondered what this year would bring.


	14. You Refuse to Lift Me

** Chapter Fourteen: You Refuse to Life Me **

" _It's cute," Self grinned crookedly. "I mean, he's trying, isn't he, Harrison?"_

_ Harry scoffed, eyes closed. "Voldemort is trying, yes. But he's still utterly clueless to emotions. I mean, he doesn't understand why I'm against the fact of his turning Longbottom dark." Self hummed, staring intensely at Harry. Even with his eyes closed, he could feel the stare. "What?" He questioned; a slight sneer to his lips. He knew what was coming…. _

" _Have you tried talking to him about it? I mean, you said it yourself; he has absolutely no idea what you feel. Perhaps he's confused about why you feel the way you do for Longbottom." He paused and Harry snapped his eyes open. The soothing colors around them lessened his anxiety._

" _Do you think he'll care?" Harry asked; amused. "Longbottom is his_ Horcrux _. It's a piece of his soul. Why would he care if I didn't like that notion?"_

" _You could at least explain it."_

_ Silence spread between the two. _

" _I don't understand this ritual…" Harry started, blurting out what was on his mind. "I mean, I suppose it all makes sense. Why my father always favored Draco, why Draco was always so stuck up… it's because they'll be getting a bit of magic from the Dark Lord-,"_

" _And vice versa," Self interrupted._

" _Yes," Harry agreed, frowning. "So they share magic between each other. I looked up the ritual in Sirius' tome and even asked my father about it…it all matches up to what Voldemort said." Self stared at Harry, two twin eyes dueling._

" _Hmm," Self hummed; a grin on his face. "Voldemort told you the truth, what's so suspicious about that?"_

_ Voldemort had looked him right in the eye. "I just find it…odd. Could you really see the Dark Lord sharing magic?" Harry sighed, glaring at nothing in particular. "I mean, there were no side affects to the ritual. There is no way Draco and the other four can drain his magic and there is no possible way he could drain their magic, or harm them in anyway. So I don't have to worry about Draco getting hurt… I just see no reason why Voldemort would want to do this ritual." _

" _To gain more power of course," Self drawled._

" _No," Harry shook his head. "He wouldn't gain any power at all." His voice was soft. "He would have to_ share _it. And that's not like him."_

_ Silence again. _

" _What are you trying to say, Harry?" Self questioned, raising an eyebrow. "You don't believe Voldemort? Even when you asked him to tell you the truth? Even when he looked you straight in the eye? Tell me, Harry, what would happen if he had lied to you? What if this ritual wasn't really what he's proving it to be? What if he hurt Draco…or worse…killed him?"_

_ Green eyes flashed. _

" _I would never trust him again."_

" _You say that now…" Self started; a deep frown on his lips. "But when you two get closer, more familiar with one another, you'll find it hard to-,"_

" _No," Harry interrupted. "I would never trust him again. No matter how much I 'love' him."_

_ Self tisked; brilliant green eyes glowing in amusement and age old wisdom. _

Harry opened his eyes, staring at the wall of the empty compartment. He had needed a good meditation. And he needed Self's input and questions. He still didn't trust Voldemort's word on the ritual…it just didn't make any sense at all. But for the time being, he would blindly jump with Voldemort and go wherever the man was leading him… for the time being….

He pursed his lips, staring out the train window. His father had dropped him off at Kings Cross with a silent Draco trailing behind. After Lucius had wished his sons' a goodbye, Draco had scurried off, looking everywhere but Harry. That didn't bother Harry too much. His brother was a bloody coward. He was used to it.

Before he could get deeper in his thoughts, the compartment door slid open rather loudly. Harry calmly turned toward the commotion, lips grinning when he caught sight of who stood on the other side.

"Harrison Regulus Malfoy," Zabini purred, his dark eyes sparkling. "It's been far too long, my friend."

"Blaise," he stood up and stuck out his hand. The black wizard grinned crookedly, ignoring the hand, going right down to the embrace. Harry stiffened slightly in the hold, but grinned a moment later. "How was your trip to France?"

The black wizard let Harry go and gave a nonchalant shrug. "Same as always; incredibly beautiful and hard to leave behind." His eyes danced across Harry's body and the Malfoy returned the favor. Blaise had always been a tall and rather thin wizard. It would seem a long summer away would do wonders for the boy- filling him out into a young man. Harry felt envious at his perfect body. Why was he cursed with such… a small and delicate frame?

"You filled out," Harry said dryly, sitting down in a huff. "Tell me what your mother feeds you, will you? Apparently my mother hadn't gotten the memo." Blaise gave a laugh and sat down gracefully across from him. The young Zabini _was_ rather handsome. He inherited his mother's natural and strong beauty…masculine beauty.

Thick lashes fluttered as he stared Harry down. "Don't get your knickers in a delicious bundle, Malfoy." Harry gave Blaise a grimace, looking at his nails. "You look positively delectable. Truly, I would do you any day."

Green eyes stared evenly at the black wizard. He remembered their conversation clearly before Blaise had left for France. Blaise had admitted that he had avoided Harry all those years at Hogwarts because he was afraid he'd fall for Harry…and the vision his mother Saw would come true. "Why are you here?" Harry questioned softly, turning serious. "You told me you didn't want to become close to me…What was the vision Pythia Saw?"

Blaise leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. Licking his lips, his eyes glanced out the window and back at Harry. "You're a Seer. You should know that not every vision turns out the way you See it. If you know what'll happen, you can try to prevent it. I can try to prevent what she Saw." Blaise leaned forward, his dark eyes intense. "To be truthfully honest with you, Harrison, not only does your beauty interest me, but you, as a person, fascinates me far more than I can let go of. I can't just miss out on a chance to get closer to you just because my mother Saw the Dark Lord find out about us…"

Harry grinned. "So we are meant to be together."

Those plump lips twitched upward, but continued to stay in a sensual curve. "Sexual…romantically, yes." The two stared at one another. "But who says we have to jump right into bed? Clearly, I wouldn't mind too much if we did, but I know you're attached to the Dark Lord too much to become bed partners." He raised an eyebrow. "Close friends will do for now."

Harry would never deny the attraction between the two of them. There was something there… perhaps it was Blaise's good looks or his mysterious personality…whatever it was, Harry was engrossed with it. And it helped that the young man didn't have Voldemort's lack of apathy. Blaise was rather well rounded in the department of feelings and emotions…after all, he had a Seer for a mother.

"I'm not attached to the Dark Lord," Harry denied. "You told me, before you left, that I needed to make him _burn_ for me- remember Blaise?" The black wizard stayed emotionless. "I haven't let him possess me just yet."

"But you have,"

"I haven't," Harry narrowed his eyes. "How the hell would you know?"

"My mother's a Seer, Harrison. Or have you forgotten?" Blaise shrugged. "She Saw you two getting rather heavy together…" Ah, so Pythia had a vision of the present.

"Does she share every damned vision with you?" Harry pursed his lips.

Blaise sighed, grinning. "So you have allowed him to possess you, not fully, but close enough. I'm rather…disappointed in you. I'll just have to try harder to court you then. In secret of course…" he leaned forward abruptly. "Just the two of us."

Harry wasn't for infidelity. He despised disloyalty and betrayal to a lover. It was his biggest weakness…he was completely loyal to whomever his lover would be. But…if he was with Blaise, would he be committing infidelity to Lord Voldemort? He thought back to last night in his father's study; the heated moment and the open curiosity as Voldemort asked what he needed to do to earn Harry's respect.

"I…" He looked up at Blaise. "I can't be with you sexually Blaise."

The Zabini male didn't look disheartened. "I respect that, Harrison. You are a rather loyal bugger, aren't you?" The boy leaned back in his seat once more. But his eyes held something inside them…and Harry didn't need to be a Seer to know they held determination- drive.

He didn't know whether to be flattered or cautious.

** -SSC- **

The rustle and bundle of the Great Hall always comforted him. He enjoyed watching the students stress over such diminutive and inconsequential issues. Really, it was amusing. He sat perched at the end of the Slytherin table, observing them from beneath hooded eyes as if they were a herd of unusual animals. _This_ was what he missed this summer. Relaxing and just observing. His Seer shield was up, so he could filter who he wanted to feel and who he wanted to block out.

The Golden Trio laughed from the top of their lungs, causing contagious laughter among the Gryffindors. Harry was the only one to really catch the longing glance Longbottom shot Ginny. The redheaded minx was further down the table with her friends, not paying the boy-who-lived any attention. Harry grinned at that.

Parvati Patil, his old lover, happened to look up at him. Her eyebrows frowned when she saw his Seer mark on his cheek. Pity. The children here at Hogwarts had no knowledge of true Seers. Only fanatical dreams of bloody Prophets like Trelawney… She looked away from his mark and back to his eyes. The bitch. He hated her. Even when he knew Tom Riddle's soul had affected her, he still despised the Gryffindor twin. But… he moved his attention on Padma, the Ravenclaw twin. It would be fun to play with _her._

But Parvati wasn't as ghastly as Cho Chang. The Asian was in her last year at Hogwarts, sitting near her friends at the Ravenclaw table. Parvati had only kissed Dean Thomas…Cho Chang, on the other hand, went a step further and found herself in Diggory's bed…a day after he lost his virginity to her. At the time, he was completely awestruck by the moment. He had just turned fifteen at the time, and he was young and foolish. He had fallen deeply in 'love' with her, or so he thought.

Seeing her betray him crushed his spirits and finally his resolve to have a significant other.

The Horcrux was to blame. But it would never ease the pain he had felt that night.

She looked up, her eyes red. Cedric Diggory had been murdered last year at the Triwizarding Tournament. That was one thing that Voldemort did right.

Cho attempted to smile at him. Harry gave her a cold look, a disinterested look, and glanced at the Head Table. Immediately, he was met with black eyes of Severus Snape. His Head of House was somewhat of a special figure in his life. They weren't close, Merlin, no. But the man, the first time he had talked with Harry had been in his first year, had been understanding. The man told him not to worry about 'friends' and focus more on his magic and studies.

Harry listened to him. He just wished he could have listened earlier. After Seeing a past vision of his potions professor's childhood, he understood why the man could distinguish Harry's problem among the other children at Hogwarts; simply because he had the same problem. The man had a dark life, one that Harry did not envy. It wasn't a mystery as to why Snape was always so moody. He was also Draco's godfather, but they rarely ever saw him. Or, Harry never saw him during the breaks.

Black eyes studied the design on his cheek. Harry found it amusing that everyone stared at his mark. Most of them had no idea what it was…which was what made it humorous. But Snape knew. The man lifted a fine eyebrow. Harry grinned and turned away.

Dumbledore was sitting proudly at the Head. He was chatting away with Sprout, the glove on his had still firmly in place. Nothing seemed off about the man. If anything, the Headmaster seemed happier.

And then his eyes landed on bright, unique blue. Harry blinked back his shock.

"Blaise, you bloody idiot." Harry growled, turning his attention to the smirking black boy. Blaise had his head down, enjoying the water provided before dinner. "Why didn't you tell me? Your mother?" He turned back to Pythia. As always she was completely stunning and regal. She sat straight backed, sipping at her goblet. The robes she picked out for the evening flattered her in every way.

She winked in his direction, sending him affectionate waves. He sent his own back to her, watching as she chuckled richly. "You two are a sight to see," Blaise commented, watching the exchange between master and student. "She's rather fond of you, you know."

"Of course she is," Harry replied flippantly. "I'm just that good of a student." He flashed Blaise an arrogant smirk.

"You're unbelievable."

Harry gave a small laugh, finally enjoying someone near him. No, he enjoyed _Blaise_ near him. Anyone else got on his nerves. "Not that I'm not pleasantly surprised she's here, but what is her intention?"

"Divination," Blaise responded as if he were bored. "And no," he interrupted before Harry could respond. "She's not teaching the students the Seer's way. Nothing like that. Seers want to be under the veil. She'll be helping Trelawney with the Prophet's ways." There was silence and then the two locked eyes, erupting in laughter.

"Trelawney? Really?" Harry laughed. From the corner of his eye, he saw a few students look their way. Their eyes were wide at the sight the pair made. Usually they were quiet and rather stoic, but seeing them laugh, made them take a second look. "Merlin, what did Dumbledore bribe her with to get her here?"

"Not much," Blaise sobered up. "She wanted to be here for you." Silence again.

"What did she See?" Harry asked, annoyed. He glanced in Pythia's direction, watching as she engaged herself with speaking to Snape.

"This was the only vision she didn't tell me about." Blaise shrugged, glancing at his mother. "She wouldn't tell me. But she said you'll have a tough time this year…she just wants to prevent something she Saw, Harrison, don't be all moody."

Pythia seemed to get a lot of visions about him. He wondered if it was the connection they had as student and master… "She most likely won't tell me either," Harry quipped. "Even if it has something to do with me."

"Who knows? You may See it yourself one of these days." He grinned, swirling his goblet between his thumb and forefinger. "Do you get visions often? The more experienced you are, the-,"

"More I can focus on an object or a person and see their past or future. I know." Harry sent Blaise an irritated look. "I've been practicing that. I just prefer to have the visions come to _me_. Pythia has years of experience, of course she can lure visions in her direction…" He envied her at her ability to manipulate visions into important ones…focused ones.

He looked past Blaise's shoulder and spotted Remus Lupin sitting near Hagrid. Having the werewolf here this year would be fun. Some entertainment. The school work came easy to him and he would be anxious staying in the castle when Lord Voldemort was out there- planning a war and _acting._ Harry played with the idea of dropping out of school and assisting, but thought otherwise. If he would skip, he would skip in the most climatic time. For all he knew, the war may be put on hold for a good five years.

Merlin. He hoped not.

With a bored air, he watched the first years enter the hall. Their fear and excitement was so strong, Harry had trouble blocking it all. It was a wonder that he used to be one of them. He used to be standing up there, praying to be in Gryffindor- hoping to have a true friend. Merlin…six years ago, he and his mother weren't even close. The hat had been right to put him in Slytherin. Anything else, and he might have ended up like Sirius Black.

He shivered in repulsion. Could he really have been like that? Laughing and being obnoxiously annoying?

No. His Seer wouldn't allow hiding his true self.

Turning his attention back to the present, he watched as the last student stumbled to Gryffindor. "Another year at Hogwarts," Dumbledore started, the smell of spring rain filtering across the hall as he spread his magic to the students. Harry was unimpressed. His fingers drummed the table in a soothing beat, well aware of his house mates relaxing under the Seer power. Blaise sent him a scathing look.

"With the threat of Lord Voldemort this year-," here the students whispered fiercely to one another. "There will be tighter security. No, I will not be canceling Hogsmeade trips, but there will be many more chaperons across the town. Quidditch will be cancelled-," Harry rolled his eyes at the students' moans. "And the curfew has been moved back an hour. Anyone out of bed after will be severely punished."

He held that on a somber note. "On a lighter note, I would like to welcome two new professors this year. Professor Lupin will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts-," a polite clap sounded but a noisy cheer spread through the Gryffindors. Blaise and a few other Slytherins sneered, already knowing they probably wouldn't like this 'Lupin' who was so popular among the Gryffindors. "And Professor Zabini, an assistant for Trelawney's divination courses." Pythia stood up and gave a slight bow at her waist.

It was the Slytherin's time to cheer more heatedly and the Gryffindor's time to sneer. Harry was well aware of the stares directed between he and Pythia as well as Blaise. Such curiosity…pity most their questions would never be truly answered.

Dumbledore wished the student body a good year and the food appeared.

Harry sighed. The food would never be as good as the Malfoy manor…

Oh well.

** -SSC- **

"Did you see it?" Blaise murmured from the corner of his mouth.

Harry, having just gotten out of Transfiguration, glanced sideways at Blaise. The black boy had been eyeing him in class, a burning secret on his tongue. "If I saw it, Blaise, I would be just as disturbed as you." The students all bumped shoulders with him, not really _seeing_ him there. Harry grinded his teeth, sending them a burst of discomfort. They shuddered and continued on a bit slower.

"Fudge," Blaise licked his lips. "The _Prophet_ had an article about Minister Fudge. Apparently he's been infecting with a disease. He's dying." Harry paused, causing someone to crash into his back.

"Watch it Malfoy," a seventh year Gryffindor spat, his eyes narrowed. Harry sneered at him. Acidic green eyes drilled on the boy's back as he passed.

"I think ecstasy would be nice touch," Blaise whispered in his ear. Harry chuckled, doing what Blaise suggested. The Gryffindor stiffened, covering his hands over the crotch of his pants where an obvious sign of arousal tented his pants. His face turned red as a few students glanced in his direction.

"He's dying?" Harry turned back to Blaise, acting as if nothing in particular had happened. Blaise lost his grin.

"I'm sure you know something about this?" Of course. It was Voldemort's bug he injected the Minister with. Harry wouldn't reveal that to Blaise. "I'm sure you do know about it." Blaise muttered, eyes becoming hooded. "He has a flesh eating bacteria in his system. There are no Healers who can stop it."

"I don't see a problem with loosing Fudge," Harry said quietly, continuing on his way to potions. "It'll be a good step in the Dark Lord's direction if the man perishes." Obviously this was the course Voldemort wanted to take. After all, he _had_ been the one to inject Fudge.

"Yes," Blaise agreed, giving a dry grin. "But I'm sure _he_ wasn't planning on his puppet, Pius Thicknesse, on getting a running mate, Rufus Scrimgeour." Harry paled slightly. "Scrimgeour is a vicious brute, Harrison. He's an ex-Auror and he's all _for_ Dumbledore and the light. One speck of a dark aspect, and he'll turn against the offender in an instant. Magical creatures, magic, spells, dark pureblood families…anything."

Harry knew exactly who Scrimgeour was and he was sure Voldemort wasn't very happy about having to compete against the man. Although Thicknesse was a decent politician and he had the Dark Lord pulling his strings. "I'm sure that everything will run smoothly, Blaise. _He_ knows what he's doing."

Hopefully.

Blaise shook his head, shrugging his back over his shoulder. "Either way, once Fudge takes his last breath, it will signal the start of the war. Having two completely different entities running against each other…" Harry frowned. Blaise was right. If Scrimgeour won, things wouldn't go very smooth for the dark side. And vice versa if Thicknesse would win.

War would be starting soon. Harry supposed Voldemort thought Thicknesse would be the only one running for the next Minister. One thing was for sure, Harry was glad he wasn't around his Match at the time he heard of the news of Scrimgeour.

"Mr. Malfoy," Harry faltered and looked up to see the Headmaster make his way over. "I'd like to see you in my office, please. Professor Snape has been informed of your absence." Blaise stiffened beside him.

"Of course, Headmaster." He sent Blaise a look and then followed behind the old man. Dumbledore had his magic out, surely trying to seduce Harry's interest and loyalty. The man should know it wouldn't work that easily. Harry was a hard one to convert, especially when he already had his loyalties in place.

As they climbed the stairs to his office, Harry was ushered in with a gloved hand. "Have a seat, my boy." Holding his tongue at the title, Harry sat down gracefully and watched as the old wizard took his own seat behind the desk. "I'm sure you've heard about Minister Fudge's illness."

Harry stared at him coldly. "Yes, Headmaster, in fact, Blaise just informed me before you came to collect me." The man made a 'awing' sound and clasped his fingers through one another.

Harry was surprised as Dumbledore lost his calm look and showed Harry his true face. "I realize I am your Headmaster, Harrison. But I also know that you are wise beyond your years and that you know things past your capacity. I would like to discuss the war with you." Silence hung in the air. Harry remained silent, telling Dumbledore with his face that he was ready to stand up and meet his challenge. "You are not naïve and I know you've met with Lord Voldemort."

Harry raised an eyebrow, not defending the accusation. Dumbledore gave a nod at Harry's silence. "He has reveled to you, your status as his Match, am I correct?"

"Listen, Headmaster, I am honored that you think I'm not naïve and innocent, but I am still your student. Not your victim. I will not sit here and have you question me on personal matters." The Horcrux around his neck gave a slight twinge, but Harry refused to wince. It was just angry at Dumbledore.

"You are right, Harry. You are my student. And with that respect, I have a right to be concerned for you." Harry gave a dry grin. "You do not know Tom. He is a very manipulative wizard who will use _anything_ to get what he wants." Harry pursed his lips at the statement. He wanted to say something in defensive for Voldemort, but he didn't want to reveal to Dumbledore that he was a hardcore dark follower. The man would never let him anywhere _near_ Longbottom in order to court the boy to the dark.

"With the realization that you are a Seer, he has probably expressed an interest. Seers are very powerful creatures, Harrison. I know of their natural abilities…as does Tom."

"I would like to know where you're going with this, Headmaster." Harry replied blandly.

"He's using the status of you being his Match in order to court you to his side firmly." Harry blinked, grimacing. This was far too bizarre. "I'm sure he has told you that Matches are supposed to be…romantically together."

"Headmaster-," Harry started.

"This is not the case, Harrison. Matches are rare, yes, but they do not necessarily have to be in a romantic relationship. In fact, they are known to be opposites on the battlefield. Having such magic between the two of you is dangerous. Not only can it destroy the world, but it can destroy the both of you." Dumbledore was frowning, looking deeply at Harry. "I'm worried for you, Harrison. Tom Riddle has no emotion once so ever."

Harry remained silent, his mind reeling subconsciously. Lord Voldemort _did_ have a torn soul. His Horcruxes ripped him apart. How was it, that Harry could have thought Voldemort did have emotions? Was the Dark Lord just toying with him?

No, of course not. Lord Voldemort had emotions. Harry had felt them through his Seer ability.

"Granted he can feel anger and other various ugly emotions; but he is incapable of loving, of caring. He sees you only as his prized tool, Harry." All Harry wanted to do was laugh, to deny his words. But his head became heavy and he slowly started to understand where the old man was coming from. Voldemort _would_ never be able to love. He would never be able to care for him. "All I'm asking, Harrison, is for you to really _think_ about what he wants you to do."

Dumbledore held out his palms, face up in a gesture of surrender. "As a leader of the light, I would like to court you to our side just as Tom has been doing."

"I'm a Seer, Headmaster. I'm neutral in this war."

The old wizard gave him a long look over the rim of his glasses. "Be that as it may, Harrison, I would still like you on our side. But for now, I want you to concentrate on your studies." Harry gave a brief nod, his mind elsewhere entirely. Dumbledore thought Harry was already on Voldemort's side, or did he? Either way, it was difficult to explain as to why Dumbledore allowed Harry to stay with Sirius and the boy-who-lived over the summer. Was it an act of kindness? A step in courting him?

Harry, for a brief second, felt smug that Dumbledore wanted him on the light side. Longbottom wasn't the _only_ one who had two powerful wizards after him. The question was…what side wanted him more? His Match that would never give him something he secretly desired? Or an old man who could manipulate things with just a smile and twinkle of his eye?

He would have to wait patiently and see.

** -SSC- **

Blue eyes watched the small figure make his way out the door.

Dumbledore smiled; his attention on the silver ornament on his desk. His gnarled hand reached toward the object, feeling the raw magic coming from it. It was meant to sway wizards' minds to the one doing the bidding. And he tampered with the ornament in order to influence a Seer. If he hadn't tampered with it, Harrison Malfoy would have probably felt the rays of manipulative magic slowly seeping into his head. Ironic how it was like a Seer's ability to influence their victim's thoughts and emotions.

It was a very risky decision to use the mind altering ball. It could be detected, but it was hidden fairly well. Harry could find it if his thoughts took a sudden turn, Lord Voldemort could find the influence if he was looking there, and of course, there was the chance of Harry's Seeing his plans in a vision.

No matter.

Dumbledore caressed the cold silver.

Harrison Malfoy would be in his grasp soon enough. Having two wizards with Tom Riddle's magic was a catastrophe. But having two wizards battling each other with Riddle's magic, wouldn't be so devastating. Harrison would make a good enough addition to the light side. And if the manipulative magic didn't work, he would have at least bought himself time with Harrison's distraction.

It was just a matter of time and patience, something Riddle lacked.


	15. Freefall

** Chapter Fifteen: Freefall **

"You haven't meditated lately," it wasn't a question. Just a statement.

Harry rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, grinning ear to ear. The white's around his eyes were red and there were deep circles surrounding his striking feature. Even those brilliant green eyes seemed slightly dim. "Lately?" Harry questioned, giving an almost choked-like laugh. "I haven't meditated since the first day of school." He looked around. "Have you seen Neville?"

He tried to push past Blaise, but the black wizard shot out his hand and curled it around Harry's arm. "You've been avoiding me and the rest of the Slytherin's lately." The handsome young man shook his head. "No, there I go again, using the word 'lately'. You've been avoiding me since the start of term, Harrison. In, fact-,"

"Blaise, I apologize, but really, I'm more than fine!" He patted the boy's hand on his arm. "I've been just really busy. The homework the professor's give us, the prefect duties, and Neville always needs help in potions. We can't send him off to the Dark Lord unprepared, can we?" Harry scoffed, head and eyes twitching subconsciously.

"That's it," Blaise shook his head again, looking at Harry as if he were a dirty hag. "I'm telling my mother. It's October, Harrison. You haven't meditated since the start of September. You've been hanging around Longbottom too much and calling him _Neville_ as if you like him-,"

"He's really not so bad." Harry shrugged, frowning. "You just need to get used to him." Well, Neville _did_ seem to ignore Harry in a way, but he needed to just _push_ past that barrier. Hermione and he got on fine. Especially when she wanted questions answered about their homework. Actually…the more Harry thought about it, the more he realized that's _all_ Hermione wanted to talk to him about. Odd.

"You're Seer mark is fading," Blaise seemed shocked, his eyes wide. "You haven't Seen any visions, have you? Merlin, Harry, what the hell is wrong with you…"

Harry leaned forward, his lips close to Blaise's ear. "I've been thinking lately, Blaise. Actually, Headmaster Dumbledore has been talking with me. I've gotten it all wrong. Lord Voldemort isn't exactly the best wizard to follow in this war. He's completely delusional if he thinks he can win this war. And I know you, Blaise. You don't like being on the loosing side. Hell, Dumbledore already has the Ministry at his disposal, the giants…and I can court the magical creatures easily for him. It's all in the palm of our hand."

Blaise reared back, slamming his palms against Harry's chest and pushing him backward. The smaller boy stumbled and hit the wall. "You're _bloody_ insane." With that, Blaise took off in a sprint toward the Divination tower. Harry contemplated on asking Blaise to pass on his greetings to his mother for him, but decided against it. He hadn't seen Pythia this year yet. They always seemed to hit and miss each other in the hallways and he didn't have Divination, so he wouldn't see her in class…

Perhaps he could stop by and pay her a visit.

Harry shook his head at Blaise's back. He didn't understand why he had thought the boy was decent to be around. People change; perhaps he had finally changed- finally woken up to the world around him. Merlin, he had been so…dense. Supporting a lost cause in Voldemort when the man would only use him for his own selfish purposes? Going around like a stick was stuck up his arse? Hiding in the shadows?

And he didn't care much about his fading Seer ability. Dumbledore had discussed the negative side affects for altering someone's emotions. Harry scoffed and continued down the hallway. He had used to take pleasure in causing people pain. He had thought it amusing. It was rather immature. _He_ had been immature.

"Harry!" Hermione beckoned him over with a gloved hand. "Are you coming?"

He tightened his cloak about his throat, grinning as he made his way over to her. It was Hogsmeade weekend and he was looking forward to spending more time with Hermione and Neville. Ron too…although the red head never really seemed to talk around him. It wasn't in Harry's place to change Ron's feelings for him. Free will was powerful…something Harry wouldn't take away from the youngest male Weasley.

With a bounce in his step, he stepped out into the crisp late October day.

** -SSC- **

The four sat at a table at the Three Broomsticks. Each occupant nursed a butterbeer between their cold hands, trying to warm up. Instead of the cheer at the table like the rest of the pub, their table consisted of nothing but awkward silence. Harry was oblivious to the way Ron and Neville sent him looks, and enjoyed his drink.

"How are your lessons with Dumbledore-," Hermione shut up as Neville threw her a dirty look.

Harry perked up. "You're having lessons with Dumbledore?"

"That's really none of your business, is it?" Ron asked scathingly.

"Ronald," Hermione scolded, her eyebrows deepening into a frown. Neville shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but Harry.

"No, it's alright. It isn't really none of my business," Harry shrugged, taking a long sip from his bottle. He didn't understand the sharp pain in his head, or the heaviness settled around his temples. The Horcrux around his neck stung severely, but he ignored it. He had been ignoring it for a good while, not too sure what to do with it. A part of him wanted to give it to Dumbledore to let the man decide what to do, but there was _something_ making him keep hold on it.

"What the hell is wrong with you!" Ron raised his voice, leaning forward. "You're a bloody idiot!" He ignored Hermione's sharp intake of breath and calming hand on his arm. "We try to be nice about it, Malfoy," Ron muttered, lowering his voice back down. "But we don't trust you. We don't like you. And we don't want to hang around you." He took a deep breath. "Please, understand us when we say that we don't want to make you feel bad, but we need time to ourselves…"

Harry blinked, frowning. "I…I thought you liked me." A part of him cringed at his weak voice. Merlin. What was wrong with him? Why did he feel like there was something, deep, inside him? Dumbledore helped him understand his mistakes in life. He shouldn't be feeling anything…so dark.

He looked at Neville, watching as the boy looked crestfallen and his expression was full of pity. Hermione was biting her lip, looking uncertainly at Ron and Harry. "I…understand," he stood up. Ron sat back against his chair, frowning. "I'll leave you alone then."

What would he do now that the people he was trying to befriend wouldn't open up to him? It was like his first year, his second year, his third… but Dumbledore said things _wouldn't_ turn out like that again. Maybe they just needed time to cool down and discuss things privately?

He left the pub, pulling on his gloves. Perhaps he needed to have another discussion with Dumbledore. Neville was probably going through a hard time at the moment and he just needed his close friends nearby. It was probably best that he told Dumbledore about Voldemort's awareness of Neville being his Horcrux.

Harry shivered. He didn't understand why he had been so jealous of Neville for carrying a piece of some else's soul.

He hadn't been watching where he was going, and before he knew it, he was slowly wandering deeper into Hogsmeade. His chest was leading him through shops and alleyways, until he stopped near a moldy brick wall. Harry blinked in confusion, not understanding why he was subconsciously being led here. His breath crystallized before his eyes as he tightened his arms around his small chest.

Just as he was about to turn back, the strong smell of lilacs filled his nose. Tensing and unfolding his magic, he had no time to defend himself as skeletal hands clutched his small shoulders in a harsh grasp.

"I said just _one_ sign…"

Crimson eyes glowed, drilling into his own.

And then a thick cord snapped painfully in his mind.

And all went black.

** -SSC- **

Dumbledore reared back as the silver ornament on his desk exploded in pieces.

A lipless smile crossed his lips. It appeared as if Harrison Malfoy would be back to normal in a day's time. He had to admit, he was oddly disappointed in the challenge Harrison gave him. It was far too easy to manipulate the boy. His goal was to manipulate the boy for a good week, if not two. But he got a month. It made him think twice about wasting the time to court the Seer to his side. Alas, Seers were powerful creatures and a good object to have on his side.

Despite the fact that he wasn't able to get everything out from Harry as he wanted, he did get a whole months worth of the boy's _and_ Tom's distraction. Albus was well aware of the eyes Tom had on Harrison. No doubt the Dark Lord would have been too distracted with his Match's change in direction to anything worth real acknowledgement. And that would cost the dark.

Albus flipped through the parchments on his desk, a true smile forming on his face at the number of acceptances.

He was pleased at the turn of the war. Things were indeed in his favor.

And Harrison wasn't completely lost to the dark. Granted, the Seer would be livid to know what he had done, but he had a few tricks up his sleeve.

And the first and foremost trick…

…was honesty and a few fun distractions.

** -SSC- **

The initial thing he was aware of as he woke from his unconsciousness was the hard and cold floor. He shivered, swallowing heavily. But his discomfort slowly disappeared as he remembered. Everything.

He shot up, hissing. The air around him sparked and static sounded through the room. His hair stood up on end and fingers clutched at his side. Across from him, Voldemort sat coldly, calmly, behind his desk. Harry's magic should have harmed anyone within distance, but Voldemort was his Match, causing his raw magic to bounce off the man in sparks. The Dark Lord never flinched as he finished whatever he was writing.

"I find it pathetically weak of you," Voldemort whispered softly. Harrison flinched, feeling his stomach turn in disgust at himself. "You are my Match. I am embarrassed to admit that." Crimson eyes rose to his own. "You said you could handle Dumbledore. And what happens?"

"I'm stupid, I know," Harry spat. His fingers buried themselves in his hair, pulling on the silky strands.

"He manipulated you, using a simple manipulative ball."

"I should have known…" That month had been a literal hell for him. It was as if his common sense were swallowed under a veil. His Seer was completely gone…and Harry had been molded to Dumbledore's liking. "I'm so stupid…" he repeated, whispering to himself. He was stupid. And he felt sick at how he had acted for a while _month._ He avoided the Slytherins completely and stuck himself to the Golden Fucking Trio. He acted like such a needy and weak little boy. He acted how he did in first year. He felt sick. He let them all say nasty things about him…he let them get _away_ with it. If he had his Seer powers, he could have manipulated them into telling them their secrets instead of asking like an eleven year old.

"Fuck," Harry spat.

"Very un-Malfoy like," Voldemort mused, his face expressionless, if not a little disappointed. "Which reminds me, your mother has been worried about her letters not being returned." Harry buried his head in his hands, not caring if he was showing weakness in front of the Dark Lord. He already had shone his weakness by allowing himself to get manipulated so easily.

"Is that how you knew?" _That I had been defeated so easily?_

"No," Voldemort went back to scrapping his quill against the parchment. "I have plenty of eyes on you. I didn't want to believe that you were manipulated so quickly…I decided to give you a few more weeks. It only got worse, so I decided to act on my word."

"What word is that?"

The Dark Lord glanced up at him, bored. "Kidnapping you if you show just _one_ sign of being manipulated." He went back to his work. The only sign of life between them was the scratching of the quill.

Harry stood up suddenly, feeling his head pound. "You're not keeping me here." He felt angry and humiliated. Being around Voldemort in his moment of weakness was the last thing he wanted. What he wanted, was to go back to Dumbledore; to yell at the man and demand to know why everything had to be such a damned game in life.

"You can try to leave," Voldemort replied nonchalantly. "But you'll find that utterly impossible. I've set up wards against you leaving." The fiery stare was back on him for just a second. "I had a feeling you would want to leave. But if you are so weak minded, you will be staying with me." Harry's Seer was back, easily detecting Voldemort's deep sated anger and disappointment at him. He winced, backing out of the room.

All he wanted to do was leave the house and to build himself back up…give himself his back his backbone. He didn't want Voldemort anywhere near while he did that.

Harry turned to leave.

"Oh, and I've taken to your suggestion and cleaned the house. You'll find our bedroom in top shape for tonight."

It was said mockingly.

Harry could no longer stay in his presence. He quickly left the study, making his way down the stairs; the same stairs Voldemort had strangled him on. Harry reached for the door, giving a pained moan as it burned his hand. Tears blurred his vision. He was a wreck at the moment, his emotions in a flurry around him. Disappointment, humiliation, anger, sadness, hurt… Merlin, he was a mess, and it was all because he had been untouch with his Seer.

He quickly made his way over to a dark corner of the living room, squeezing through a tight crook in the wall and sliding down into a fetal position against the stone wall. His knees were up to his chin, giving him slight comfort. As he looped his arms around his legs, he squeezed his eyes closed, desperate to reach Self. Self would be the only one to get him on stable ground, to give him his dignity back…

** -SSC- **

This time, he wasn't on the hard ground when he woke.

Instead, he was laid out on soft sheets, feeling lips trace his naked shoulder. As he opened his eyes, he knew he was sturdy in this world once again. Self had a stern talk with him, pointing out where he went wrong and what issues were out of his hands. Dumbledore was out of his hands…it hadn't been Harry's fault for falling easily in his trap, but it _was_ his fault for not being more observant during their first meeting. After his talk with Self, Harry felt more than refreshed. And he had plenty of revenge strategies in mind for the golden trio.

"I apologize," the lips mumbled on his skin. "Forgive my callousness earlier today, my sweet." Voldemort's naked chest was lying on Harry's equally naked torso. The Dark Lord's legs were straddling Harry's pert arse, giving the smaller a bit of a jolt. Harry's eyes snapped open, wondering how they got in this position when he remembered the wall comforting him just moments ago.

"No," Harry murmured. "You had every right to be angry, disappointed." Green eyes turned tiredly to the side to look up at the Dark Lord. "I was a fool to be so easily manipulated. I was cocky and I underestimated Dumbledore, I should be the one to apologize."

He stiffened as he felt Voldemort's face burry itself in his neck, inhaling and…nuzzling? It was a rather soft caress, something unusually unlike the Dark Lord. But Harry hated to admit that it didn't feel as awkward as he thought it would. It was a nice change.

"You told me to…respect you." The word came out uncertain, almost disgustedly. Harry smothered his smirk in the pillow.

"I did," it came out muffled and Voldemort picked up on Harry's amusement. With a soft hiss, his teeth nipped the soft skin of his neck. "You're doing rather well, My Lord." He was utterly aware of the skin on skin contact. It sent him on edge, creating a tension between the two…not at all an unpleasant tension, but rather indecisive for Harry. Merlin…

"You'll be staying with me. I need you in this war." Voldemort murmured.

"I can't stay, My Lord," he was walking on thin ice. Anytime and the Dark Lord could snap. "I…I've been fooled once, it won't happen again. After all, don't you need Longbottom?" His tone was bitter as he pulled away from the Dark Lord's lips.

"I can get him from afar," Voldemort growled as Harry rolled out from under him. "It's not like you were doing much good anyway."

Harry winced mentally and scrambled off the bed. He found his Slytherin robe and tie abandoned on the chair by the fireplace. The room he was in was rather opulence. He refused to be affected by the black marble and the dark sheets and the gold fireplace. He was amused to remember dimly that the house _had_ been cleaned. The Dark Lord remembers to pick up a feather duster but always seemed to forget Harry was a damned person.

"I told you, you won't be able to get out of the house-,"

"I'm not," Harry stated matter-of-factly. He threw on his robe, throwing a look at the half naked Dark Lord. "But no one said I had to sleep with you." The red eyed man gave an annoyed sigh, black hair falling in his face.

Harry paused to study the man. He wasn't exactly…handsome. But he had to remember the man was older than seventy. Even the most powerful glamour spells and potions wouldn't be able to hide _everything_. Yes, the man looked young, but he didn't have a youthful glow around him…and his crimson eyes were shadowed with both darkness and age old wisdom. The man was powerful and dark…which easily showed through in his appearance. But even if he wasn't handsome, Tom Riddle was an intimidating and cold beautiful.

And he had a decent body. It wasn't muscular, but rather thin, showing the sharp planes, especially on his face. Harry wasn't complaining.

"Ah," Voldemort sat back, staring at the Horcrux laying against Harry's skin. "I did something to bother you again."

"You did," Harry admitted, covering himself. "Perhaps you should be the Seer. You are incredibly dense."

Voldemort gave a malicious grin, eyes glittering dangerously. "You think so? Alas, sweet serpent, I'm not the one who was Dumbledore's plaything for over a month." Harry whipped his head around, glaring at the amused smirk.

"It's over and done with, Tom. You will not mention my mistake again." The two stared at one another, both of them not letting an ounce of emotion to show through. It wasn't before long when Voldemort's eye twitched and then he slumped against the headboard.

"Come," he lifted a bony hand. "We are on equal ground; you have no reason to be so easily hurt by me."

"We are on equal ground?" Harry questioned in mock surprise. "How could I have thought any differently?" Voldemort sneered at him. Harry blinked, feeling something ugly twist in his stomach. What if Dumbledore _had_ been right? Granted the old man was a manipulative fool, but…what if Voldemort was only trying to court him now but once Harry joined fully to his side the man would discard him like the rest of his followers? Countless of the Death Eaters had felt Voldemort's attention and would do anything to get his notice back on them. What if he turned out like them?

"Stop," the room grew cold. "You clearly haven't gotten out all of Dumbledore's cobwebs. _Never_ think I would betray my Match like that." Harry took a step back at the harsh tone, feeling Voldemort's magic crowd the room. "You are not one of my Death Eaters…"

Before Harry could register, Voldemort was before him. With quick movements, Harry was wrapped in something he would never relate to with Voldemort. An embrace. He had only been hugged like this from his mother, not from anyone, and definitely not the Dark Lord. A hand pet his hair. "For being a Malfoy, you are very emotional and soft."

Harry hesitantly allowed himself to slouch into the arms. "I'm a Seer." He said it like it was obvious. "And you are reassuring me, My Lord. You do this to the people you are close with. Do you really think you can be stoic with those that you need to trust and vice versa?"

"I see no reason why anyone needs to show emotions."

Harry shook his head, frowning. Voldemort was utterly clueless when it came to showing affection or opening up. "No," Harry started, pulling back and looking up at the Dark Lord. "You are emotionless to strangers or acquaintances. Or followers. But around those you are close with or trust, you can open up." He studied the taller man. "I, personally, would like to see another side to you that no one has ever seen before."

Voldemort looked rather put off about that. "Emotions? You want me to show you my tears?" It was spat, as if tears were a vile thing. For Voldemort, Harry supposed they were. The Dark Lord would only enjoy tears if they were from his enemy.

"Not necessarily," Harry replied bitterly. He supposed with so many Horcruxes, Voldemort might not have very strong emotions. "But you must have uncertainties about the war. You may be unsure of things, or maybe you are eager to go to battle…anything. If you want me to trust you, if you want me to be loyal, I require you to come alive from the damned statue you show everyone else." Voldemort was closed off for a long moment.

Harry was starting to get uncomfortable in the loose embrace. He had to remind himself that if Voldemort really wanted a romantic relationship, that this conversation was necessary. They needed to push past these awkward barriers in order to flourish together. And when he thought of flourishing, he didn't just mean their relationship, but also their success on the battlefield and war politics. Perhaps if he just told the Dark Lord…

"You told me we would be equals." Harry started again, not entirely sure what the Dark Lord was thinking past that mask of his. "We need to trust one another when it comes to the war, Tom. War is a long process; you need someone you can trust to complete the tasks that you can't-,"

Lips pressed into his own, shutting him up. Harry was breathless as Voldemort pulled back. "No need to explain to me, Harrison. I understand where you're coming from." The man paused, his face contorting as if pained. "I just find it…difficult to show such weakness, even to myself. But you can be assured that I will try my best to make you feel that you are not my servant but something far more special."

Harry looked up, a small smirk playing on his lips. He supposed if he weren't a Seer, he would be royally screwed up; if he weren't trying to stick himself to Longbottom's side, he would be allowing Voldemort to treat him as a crowned bed partner. But as he was a Seer, he was more intoned with emotions and feelings. He was human and not a mindless pureblood who followed power with their noses.

"And with that promise, you just showed me leaps and bounds." He knew Voldemort would never be perfect. Hell, Harry even knew the man would snap at him and have brief periods of callousness. But Harry wouldn't try to change that. As long as he _knew_ Voldemort was trying, that's all that mattered.

Crimson eyes lit up and hands grew animated as they slowly caressed his back end. "Really?" The Dark Lord questioned in a sly voice. Harry grinned, knowing exactly what the man wanted. But his amusement vanished the same instant his clothes did.

"Tom!" He gave a cry and tried to pull away. He was in no way self-conscious of his body, but it was rather…sudden?

"You said you wanted me to express myself and my _feelings_." Voldemort began, his arousal easily felt through Harry's Seer ability. "Well, as of now, I _desire_ you." Despite the rather awkward moment, Harry laughed. Perhaps…perhaps he could play with Voldemort. He wasn't ready for a complete sexual relationship, but he could give a bit of pleasure to the man for this agreement to work on his respect.

Voldemort faltered slightly in his antics as Harry gave him a wicked stare. And before the Dark Lord could comprehend, his lower torso was ripped clear of clothing as well. Cold air hit his hard arousal, causing the man to hiss in pain and pleasure. But Harry wouldn't allow this chance to pass him by. He pushed Voldemort towards the bed, watching in delight as the Dark Lord went with his push and landed on his back.

"Act of dominance, Harrison?" Voldemort purred. "I'm afraid you won't get very far."

"We'll see about that," Harry caught and accepted the challenge. His thin body slowly crawled upon the bed and straddled Voldemort's arousal. His heart skipped a beat at the strange sensation. He had never been with a man before, but Merlin, did it feel nice. The Dark Lord was rather large for his frame and Harry shuddered at the pain it would cause him when they…

"You should know I'm not ready." Harry blurted out, feeling stupid for doing so. But he had to forewarn the man before they got too heavy…not that the Dark Lord would actually _listen_ though.

Hands claimed his hips and red eyes looked lustfully up at him. "You said you weren't a virgin." The fingers tightened rather harshly on his skin, reminding him that Voldemort didn't approve of his innocence being taken. The man thrust upwards, rubbing his erection painfully against Harry's arse.

Harry bit his lip, trying to keep in his moan. "To a bitch," Harry whispered, remembering Cho. With his eyes closed, he could hear Voldemort's pleasurable chuckle.

Fingers slowly danced around his tight arse. "I will be _gentle,_ " Voldemort mocked.

"And who said you get to top?" Harry snapped his eyes open, looking down at the smug face of the Dark Lord. Desire licked his chest, but he didn't want to give in so easily. No, he couldn't give in so easily. Voldemort had to work harder then to get complete sexual penetration. "I can give you just as much pleasure."

Crimson eyes, already veiled with lust, looked him up and down. "I'm older than you and larger then you…in all senses, mind you." Harry gave a growl in frustration, taking Voldemort's hands away from him and pinning them above the man's head. He knew, without a doubt, that Voldemort would always be the one giving, rather than receiving. He wouldn't argue with that. But tonight, they were doing something a little _different_.

His magic grew around him, pinning Voldemort's own magic in control. The Dark Lord jerked, feeling the odd sensation of their magic entwining together and merging. His mouth opened slightly as Harry leaned forward and kissed him deeply. Fingers still clutched his hips, beginning to draw blood at the harsh hold, but the pain only fueled Harry's pleasure.

And without any mercy, he poured pleasure and ecstasy into Tom Riddle.

The Dark Lord gasped. Harry watched closely as the man's slit-like pupils expand wider in uncontrolled pleasure. Harry, feeling oddly pleased, began to rub himself heatedly over the Dark Lord's erection. "You…" Voldemort wheezed huskily. "Little minx…"

"You will never find such pleasure with another," Harry whispered passionately into Voldemort's ear. "Never."

He felt Voldemort tightened his hold and met Harry with the friction thrusts. Harry allowed his head to tip backward in pleasure, baring his exposed neck to Voldemort. The man, feeling slightly shown up at being the one pleasured, sank his teeth in Harry's neck. They easily cut open the skin, causing Harry to loose his focus on pouring pleasure into the body below his. "No," Voldemort agreed. "I will never, as you will never."

And with his legs, he hooked them around Harry's small body and turned their positions around. As Voldemort hovered over Harry, the smaller didn't take the submission as a sign of defeat. Instead, he played back. His fingers rained down Voldemort's cold body, burning him up in his path. Their groins rubbed against one another in a heated frenzy. Harry knew, with the state of Voldemort, that he wouldn't last long before he went against Harry's wishes and entered him.

With that knowledge, Harry grabbed Voldemort's face and lowered the man to his lips. Again, he poured in the strong emotion of ecstasy. Voldemort shuddered heavily, his already hard erection becoming unbearably full and hot. Nails scrapped down Harry's sides, claiming his skin in red parallel lines. The Dark Lord made a loud noise that sounded like a moan and grunt entwined together.

Harry was able to feel Voldemort's uncontrollable pleasure and felt the man's uneven and wild heartbeat. Sweating bodies rubbed together and then Voldemort tensed above him. "Harrison," he whispered against Harry's cheek and climaxed violently.

Hearing his whispered name and feeling the hot liquid claiming their bodies, Harry came soon after.

Voldemort slumped tiredly on top Harry, not bothering to clean their mess. "You bloody brat," Voldemort breathed, his sweaty arms encircling Harry. "Your damned Seer powers will be the death of me."

"You are pretty old," Harry agreed smugly, remembering the pounding heart of Voldemort's. "Let's hope the Dark Lord doesn't parish in bed with his Match from a heart attack." Voldemort bit his ear affectionately.

"Harrison," Voldemort started off hesitantly. From his tone, Harry was consciously aware that the Dark Lord was going to share something with him he probably wouldn't have earlier if Harry hadn't coaxed him into _trying_. "You don't need to think that you have to use your Seer abilities in bed." Harry turned his gaze on Voldemort. "You give me enough pleasure without it. More pleasure than anyone could possibly give me."

"Do I?" Harry smirked, reaching over to brush a bit of blood from Voldemort's lips.

"You do," Voldemort replied honestly, engulfing Harry's wandering finger in his mouth. Crimson eyes glowed fiercely.

"But do you like it when I use them?" A part of him was ecstatic that Voldemort was admitting these things. Another part was relieved that he _did_ bring pleasure to the Dark Lord without his powers. "I don't want to be compared to your past lovers."

"I never had a lover." Voldemort curled a suffocating hand around Harry's throat, squeezing. "I had toys. If you were my past toy, Harrison, you would be kicked out of bed as soon as I climaxed; whether you had come already or not. If you were my toy, we would definitely not be having this conversation." The Dark Lord leaned closer his breath hitting Harry's small hairs on his neck. "How many times must I have to tell you, you are _my_ Match."

Perhaps Harry was just as possessive and jealous towards the Dark Lord as the man was with him. He reached out and took a fistful of the Dark Lord's raven colored hair. "Then I won't use the powers as often as I did tonight." Harry whispered and pulled teasingly at the man's hair.

"Should we test that out?" Voldemort wandlessly cleaned their sticky mess between them and dove his own face into Harry's crook of his neck. Harry gasped as Voldemort reopened a wound to his throat.

** -SSC- **

_ Fingers were stroking long platinum blonde hair. "Such pretty hair…" a voice crooned in the dark. Around the room, bodies of Death Eaters scattered throughout the floor and the walls. "Pity it's not black." The figure getting his hair pet was none other than Lucius Malfoy. Harry grimaced and stepped closer to his father. _

_ This was either a present image or a future image, judging by the slight cloudiness around his vision. Either way, seeing his father sitting on a stool, slacked face, was enough for Harry to wish it had been a past vision. The man's cold eyes were lifeless as they stared straight ahead of him. "Your son will come, Mr. Malfoy. And I'm going to enjoy seeing his face when he lays eyes on _ you. _"_

_ Harry knew that voice. He had only heard it once before, but it was enough to remember the uncanny tone. Turning his eyes beyond his father, he caught sight of Lord Octavio. The man had the same attire on, yet his hair was now a messy midnight blue and the paint on his face matched the color of his hair. Those deep pink eyes seemed to be a slight purple today, but nonetheless, the man was just as fascinating as the first time Harry laid eyes on him. _

_ But now, now Harry was beyond angry. Lord Octavio had his father. _

He woke up, turning to see crimson eyes watching him. He decided not to dwell on the fact that Voldemort probably didn't trust him enough to allow his guard down and actually _sleep_ in his presence.

"You said you were hunting Octavio," Harry whispered, eyes wide from his lack of sleep.

"Yes," Voldemort replied calmly. "I sent a few Death Eaters on his trail."

"My father?" Harry questioned.

"Yes," the man repeated. Crimson eyes narrowed on his onyx Seer mark. "What did you See?"

Harry buried his forehead in his palms. "They're dead, all of them. Except for my father."


	16. I Won't be Lost Again

** Chapter Sixteen: I Won't be Lost Again **

"Fuck it," Blaise yelled, clutching Harrison's arm. "You can't _do_ this."

Harry raised his eyebrows, a humorless smirk playing across his face. Brilliant green eyes became hooded and mocking as they studied the black wizard clutching at his arm and holding him back. "I never pegged you as the type to curse so vulgarly, Blaise."

He had returned to Hogwarts as soon as he had woken up from his vision. The vision that involved his father and Lord Octavio. It took an _hour_ to argue with Voldemort before he convinced the Dark Lord to let him go. Of course the Dark Lord wanted to keep him chained to the bedposts, but Harry convinced the man that his little eyes around Hogwarts would watch for any more slips in character. And the first thing Harry had done when he came back to Hogwarts was pay Dumbledore a little _visit._

" _You had no right," Harry stepped out from the shadows. Dumbledore slowly placed down his quill, a small frown playing his lips. "The manipulative ball you used…it's unforgivable." His shoulders where stiff with anger and he had to do all he could to keep his magic from licking and hissing out at Dumbledore._

_ Dumbledore opened his mouth, no doubt ready to give another manipulative answer. "I'm not going to listen to your excuses-," _

" _Yes, I used the manipulative sphere on you, Harrison. I don't deny it." Inside, Harry shuddered, remembering. When he had been under Dumbledore's spell, he had thought Voldemort was an idiot and Neville was his God. All that simpering and ground licking he had done to the Golden Trio… he would get his revenge for the way they treated him. So lowly. So horrible. His stomach felt weak at how he had acted for a better part of a month. He had wasted so much time…_

_ Inside, he was still a wreck over what had happened. Perhaps he should have stayed with the Dark Lord a little longer. But the thought of letting himself rest in the hands of a sexually charged Dark Lord didn't set well with him at the moment. _

_ Nonetheless, his face was an emotionless slate compared to his inner emotions. "Then why do you do things like that?" He saw red. "Do you expect me to even _ listen _to you again? To trust you? Never." His Seer was out, invisibly reaching out to feel Dumbledore's emotions. No one could fake emotions, and Harry got a good feel as to what Dumbledore felt._

_ Satisfaction, smugness…but there was a hint of guilt. _

_ Albus Dumbledore was a strange man. "Harrison…I told you I wanted you on the light side. You are my _ student _, my responsibility. Yet you are also my enemy and project." Harry refused to flinch at that title. A project. He was a project. "How can you blame me for attempting to bring you over on my side? Yes, it was a gamble, but I took it."_

_ Harry didn't understand why he had even come to confront Dumbledore about such a topic. No doubt Voldemort would disprove. But this was his life, and his actions. A part of him still liked the idea of two Lords fighting over _ him _and his powers. Neville was being fought over, why couldn't he? Despite the fact he was dark, he_ wanted _to be wanted. Call it a childhood scar, but he wouldn't deny feeling that way._

" _What do you want me to say, Headmaster?" Harry whispered softly, his eyes cold. "What do you expect me to do after such an act?" A part of him, a part that Self wouldn't let him deny, wanted Dumbledore to keep pursuing him… Harry enjoyed these mind games with the Headmaster, doubtless that he had lost the first round._

" _The only thing you can do, Harrison." Dumbledore looked him in the eye. "Try to keep up." Harry lifted his chin, startled by the man's stark truthfulness. "And I am to offer you an apology…. I still want you on my side Harrison. And there is one thing I will offer to you in exchange for your word that you will stay neutral for this school year. You will do no battles against the light."_

_ Green eyes widened only a fraction. "I don't believe you can offer me such a thing." He couldn't. There was nothing Dumbledore could give him that would make Harry agree to those terms. _

_ Dumbledore gave a small smile. "Your father's whereabouts." _

And what had he done?

Something bloody abrupt, that's what.

He had agreed, with the aid of an Unbreakable Bond, to remain neutral in this school year. Dumbledore had called Severus inside the room to act as the Bonder. Harry had been slightly put out about Professor Snape being the Bonder, not knowing where the man's loyalties lie, but he agreed nonetheless to the Bond. And clutching Dumbledore's gloved hand, Harry had spoke his oath to remain neutral. Granted, in mind, Harry could still be considered dark, but he couldn't physically fight against the light in a battle. But in exchange for his oath, Dumbledore shared with him information that Lord Voldemort couldn't give him.

Where his father was.

"What did you do, Harrison?" Blaise murmured, pulling him close by the biceps. His breath ghosted over Harry's skin, causing the smaller wizard to close his eyes briefly. He remembered Voldemort's kisses…their passionate caresses. Merlin, he was so weak. Thinking about _him_ in Zabini's arms. "What did Dumbledore make you do in order to give you the information of your father's whereabouts?"

"Blaise," a woman spoke up from behind Harry. Without turning, Harry already knew who it was. Her comforting aura always caused his own Seer to cower down and lie peacefully at her feet. "Is there a reason you're harassing Mr. Malfoy?"

"Mistress Zabini," Harry tugged out of Blaise's hold and gave a warm smile toward his teacher. Although he was happy to see her, he was also wary. This was the first time he had seen her since the summer…since Dumbledore's easy manipulation. "It's good to see you again." Throwing Blaise a look he turned back to the woman's vivid blue eyes. "How is working with Professor Trelawney?"

Her shoulders were set and she carried the shadows around her with a deadly grace. He envied at how powerful and in control she looked. "As good as it can be working with a Prophet." Her lips twitched upwards as she stepped closer to Harry. Fingers reached out and ran down the Seer design on his cheek. He resisted the temptation in closing his eyes. "It's good to see you back with us, Mr. Malfoy. I was worried the Dark Lord would take too long."

Harry looked away from her, knowing where the conversation would go. She would lecture him about his weakness, about his stupidity. "But what I want to know is what my son and you are fighting over now."

It would seem he had been wrong. She didn't want to discuss the Dumbledore incident. And Harry wondered at how much she'd Seen of the situation. Considering the knowing gleam in her eyes, he assumed she knew everything.

"Harrison agreed with Dumbledore to do something in order to find out about his father's whereabouts. Apparently Lord Octavio has his father and a few of the Dark Lord's followers." Blaise stepped beside Harry, easily towering over him in height.

"I don't have to explain myself to you, Blaise." Harry looked calmly at his housemate. The handsome wizard was about to come back with his own retort, but Pythia Zabini put a hand on her son's shoulder.

"Blaise," the boy clenched his jaw. "I need time alone with Harrison. After which, we will talk." Dark eyes then turned on Harry and the smaller wizard held his chin up, meeting Blaise's intense stare. Subconsciously, he sent out reassuring waves toward Blaise. The Slytherin's eyes widened a fraction until they narrowed.

"Don't." Zabini snapped. "I don't understand you. Your father is a bloody bastard to you and what do you do? You risk your life for him. Why is that, Harrison? Did you're mother brainwash you as a child to protect the Malfoy family despite their mannerisms towards you?" Pythia gave a hum of disproval at her son's words, but Harry wouldn't have her fighting his battles for him. Even if they were against her own son.

"Don't bring my mother into this, Blaise. It's my _father_ ; I can't leave him like that." Lifeless mercury eyes. Slack jawed… Lucius Malfoy was _not_ a lifeless Mime… he couldn't be. But seeing him sitting so dead while someone pet his hair…

Blaise gave a dangerous hiss, turning his back and easily dismissing the two. Harry refused to ponder on Blaise's overprotectiveness and hoped the wizard wasn't thinking of those silly thoughts of courting Harry into a relationship. He would have to have a discussion with Blaise on that. Until then…all he could think about was the vision he had of his father. His mind was on a one track way.

His gaze was on the floor. And he was more than aware of her stare. "Harrison…"

"Please," Harry gave a deep sigh, not afraid of showing his emotions in front of her. She would sense them anyway. Granted, any other day, she would probably scorn him for _showing_ those emotions, but tonight, he was sure she had other priorities in mind. "Don't tell me what I did was stupid." He couldn't handle anymore of his faults. He was playing with Albus Dumbledore. He was a beginner in this mind game, but he needed to learn how to participate in such a game. And what better way to be introduced to the game by playing against the top contesters?

Voldemort might be angry at his weakness at getting snagged so quickly into Dumbledore's trap, but Harry had to look at the positive. He learned from his mistake. He would never be that open and unaware again.

Pythia laid her hand on his back, slowly pulling him to her chest. "Harrison," she whispered again. Harry wouldn't collapse in her embrace. Not when he needed to be strong. If he allowed his eyes to close and his cheek to lie so comfortably against her bosom, he feared he would never be able to face his problems again. "What happened with Dumbledore was a good experience for you." Her long fingernails ran through his silky curls. "I hated to stand by and watch, but you needed to open your eyes. Even if you are a mature sixteen year old, you are awfully naïve and arrogant."

His jaw clenched. He drew strength from within to keep from shuddering in emotional pain. She was right.

"I had to show you the true nature of humans. They will do _anything_ in their power to gain possession of us. You had to see yourself and your enemies, Harrison." Her hand left his hair and cascaded down to caress his cheek.

"I know, Pythia." Harrison spoke softly. The two were cloaked in the shadows and it was late. There would be no students stumbling across a professor and student embracing loosely. "What happened…what he did…" Harry paused. "It _did_ open my eyes."

"And by doing so, you've finally reached maturity. This event thrust you into your adulthood and shed loose your childish innocence." Pythia hugged him tightly, her warm body doing wonders on Harrison's unsure and stiff muscles. "You have a long road ahead of you Harrison. An uneven road. From the moment you accepted your Seer ability, you've carved your road." Her voice was unsteady and Harry understood.

"That's why you are here, at Hogwarts." To watch over him and help guide him…to assist him on that path.

"Yes."

"You won't tell me what's in store for me."

"I can't." Her fingers tightened around him. "You are now the third player to Voldemort's and Dumbledore's game. Only you have the power to tip the balance. And you have finally realized it."

He can start playing now.

Vibrant green eyes closed, and he leaned into Pythia.

"You believe in me." It wasn't a question, simply because Harry knew the answer. It was the same question he asked his mother when he had been lost to the world around him. When he asked Narcissa, he had been immature, confused, naive. He had still been living the life his father wanted of him, he had been struggling on what side of the war he wanted, and he had been unsure of who he was.

But now, now he knew who he was.

He was Harrison Regulus Malfoy, son to Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy. He had a fraternal twin in Draco and he had a friend in Blaise Zabini. He had a Match in Tom Riddle. He was a Seer and a powerful wizard who could challenge both Dumbledore and Voldemort with a little more experience. He had enemies in the Golden Trio. And he had a drive to be the best damned wizard in history; without the bonds Voldemort threw on him to be his Match and without the bonds that Dumbledore threw on him as an enemy or a potential partner.

He was himself.

And he finally understood it all.

As he opened his eyes, he felt as if he saw things clearer. "I think you know the answer to your question, Harrison." Pythia gave one last smile before pushing him away. They were back to being Mistress and student. "Now go find your father."

Harry gave a smirk. With a sharp bow at the waist, he brushed past his instructor. "Oh, and Mr. Malfoy?" Turning back around, he witnessed Pythia looking at him with concern. "Look deep within him. You'll see he's more than just a painted face."

Like her son, she turned her back and almost all but glided from the corridor.

She had been referring to Octavio.

** -SSC- **

Dumbledore said he knew where Octavio was hiding because he had 'people' watching the Death Demon's movements. By 'people', Harry thought it would be a few members from the Order of the Phoenix. And he was right… but in particular, it had been Sirius Black and Mad Eye Moody. To make matters even better, they were not the only ones accompanying him. Dumbledore had agreed to let him go with, but he would be sending a few members of his little Order.

At the time, Harry hadn't cared. He had just wanted his father back.

But now that he was walking toward Octavio's hideout, he couldn't help but to wonder why he agreed. He was a Malfoy. And he expected some discomfort at that and maybe because he was sixteen and so…small… but he never thought they would outwardly sneer and glare at him.

And who was the sixteen year old here?

Harry tightened his cloak around him, warding off the cold breeze. It felt slightly comforting across his adrenaline crimson cheeks. His father was all but a few yards away and his magic was literally sparking around his fingers. Ironic, really, how the Order was on a rescue mission for Lucius Malfoy in Death Eater robes. But Dumbledore had vowed, with the Unbreakable Bond, that they would not prosecute Lucius as long as Harry stayed neutral. There were other minor things Dumbledore and he had agreed with, but at the moment, Harry couldn't concentrate on anything but his anxiety.

Someone rubbed against him and Harry flinched away from the contact on instinct. Turning, he saw Remus Lupin blushing and looking everywhere but at him. "Professor, you startled me." He tried to smooth out the situation because he knew Remus Lupin's werewolf was attracted to his Seer. In fact, the whole month he had been drugged under Dumbledore's manipulations, he couldn't quite remember what Remus had been like in DADA class.

During the summer, he had been interested in the werewolf. Now that he was clear minded again, he could focus on the relationship with Remus and Sirius. This werewolf in front of him was the reason Sirius Black was chained to the light side. What made the two tick?

"I apologize, Mr. Malfoy." There was an unearthly silence. Harry had his hood drawn, the depths too deep to peer at Lupin's expression. "You will be alright to engage in the battle?" Harry's lips twitched. "Not that I underestimate your skill in dueling, Harrison. But with your father-,"

"That only makes me want to fight harder, Professor."

"Silence," Mad Eye Moody snapped, his magical eye whirling in the back of his head. "Focus on your enemy, not useless chit chat."

Harry decided not to rise to the bait. He wouldn't engage in any verbal spars with Alastor Moody. The man despised his family… why would Harry waste his breath? Professor Snape glanced over his shoulder at him and with a sharp raise of his eyebrow, he turned back around. The man had joined them all, staying his silent distance away from the crowd. A few others were also present; Harry didn't feel the need to identify each of them.

The grass was wet but his boots stayed oddly silent in the thick mud. Others weren't as lucky. Their steps made a loud suction sound with the ground. At the end long meadow, the sounds of waves crashed against the rocky shore, spraying them with droplets of water. Directly below them, a Death Demon resided with his puppets…with his Mimes. With his father.

The group paused, looking over the edge at the sharp rocks and deep endless waves. Harry resisted a growl and pushed past them, jumping off the cliff. He heard someone give a sharp intake of breath at the action, but he didn't bother to look back to see who it had been. His boots touched the uneven ground, causing a few pebbles to come loose and fall into the sea. But he kept his balance like any Malfoy would and had his wand out in the ready.

A few others jumped after him, landing on the ledge. He kept his eyes to the left, inching closer to the cave. His Seer hesitantly reached out to test the air, blocking out the Order's emotions. Inside, there was no sense of life. None. He paused in his advances, causing someone to bump into him and slip on the ledge. Harry whirled quickly around, using rapid reflexes to shoot his hand out and curl it around the falling wizard's wrist.

It turned out to be Snape. The man flashed his dark eyes in his direction, his face an emotionless stare. "Sorry," Harry breathed. Making sure the man was safely on the ledge, Harry let go of the wrist and turned back toward the entrance of the cave. With the Order behind him, he slowly moved forward. As soon as he stepped through the threshold of the cave, his breath became visible and the sound of droplets hitting the stone floor echoed loudly.

This was where Octavio resided? He had a suspicion that Dumbledore had been lying to him, just waiting for Harry to turn his back and then have his Order strike. But the Unbreakable Bond would hold Dumbledore's words true. Octavio _was_ here. The only problem was finding the Lord of Mimes.

Flicking his wand, he wordlessly lightened the end. With the light at the tip of his wand, he stepped deeper in the cave. In the dim light, he saw how deep the cave actually was. Several tunnels twisted and turned, revealing a slight problem on their behalf. "Split up?" Remus murmured in question.

"What are we here for anyway?" A nameless Order member grumbled. "For a lifeless Death Eater, that's it. We risk our lives-,"

Harry's magic unleashed around him, snapping like the angry waves beneath them. Glowing green eyes locked on the one who had spoken, watching in sick enjoyment as the man shuddered and fell to his knees in pleasure and shock at his magic. "You will do well to shut your mouth." Harry hissed; his eyes alight. The man whimpered, breathing heavily with the onslaught of magic. He had probably never felt such magic, magic only Lord Voldemort held.

"Harrison," Snape placed his hand on his shoulder, pulling Harry away from his enjoyment. "You need to control yourself."

Pursing his lips, Harry turned away from the pathetic form on the floor and witnessed most of the other Order members staring at him in interest, surprise, or lust. He didn't even need his Seer to tell them they were feeling such things. When a wizard held raw power like he, others were automatically attracted to him like a moth would a light; hence the reasoning why wizards followed Voldemort even when the Dark Lord wasn't exactly known for his lenience.

" _Point me_ , Lucius Malfoy." His wand spun in his hand, the _lumos_ reflecting off the wet walls. The wand in his palm spun, seemingly confused, before it rolled out of his hand and on to the floor. Eyes widening, he tensed as he watched his wand roll across the floor and then lift above a void of emptiness on the ground, pointing downward at a hole.

Harry took a deep breath, readying himself. Striding forward, he grabbed the wand above the large hole and jumped down. It was rather reckless, but he was confident enough. The walls weren't as wide as he would have liked, causing his shoulders to hit painfully against them. But it wasn't a steep drop. He hit the ground within seconds, successfully hitting his head on a low rock as he tried to straighten up. Idiot. With his lightened wand, he lightened the path for the Order members following in his wake. It wasn't a surprise that Snape had jumped in right after him.

From the corner of his eye, he saw a quick movement behind Snape. "Professor-,"

The Mime stepped out of the shadows, his dead eyes staring at them lifelessly. Harry stared back unblinkingly. Was this one of Voldemort's old Death Eaters? He wouldn't be able to tell. The Mime had thick white make up on his face, disguising the true facial features. And the emotions were a blank slate…he wouldn't expect less from a dead victim. The Mime cocked his head to the side, his permanent frown painted across his lips.

With a cold and dead giggle, the Mime turned its heel and ran deeper into the shadowy depths. Before he could run after the Mime, he heard muffled shouts from above. "We have company." Snape drawled, clutching his left forearm.

Damnit. Lord Voldemort had made his appearance. If it wasn't for Snape's Dark Mark, it would be the smell of lilacs flooding the cave that revealed to Harry who was here.

Would he be irate with Harry? He would no doubt be exasperated that Harry hadn't told him about Lucius' and the other followers' whereabouts. But then how did he get here? Was there more eyes than Harry thought there was? Snape raised his eyebrows as Harry gave a low growl. This was just a distraction for finding his father.

With his magic, he wrapped it around himself and floated himself up the tunnel, landing gracefully and silently on the above ground. As he would have suspected, the Order members where fighting against the Death Eaters who had entered the cave's mouth. It was a large mosh pit of fighting bodies and glowing spells being blasted across at one another. What they weren't paying attention to, was the way the cave seemed to crumble as a missed spell hit the cave's wall.

Harry sneered.

His Seer magic reached out and grabbed a hold of every body in the cave. Pouring horror and fright into all, he watched as they went down to their knees, whimpering softly. To them, they would think it was his magic doing such things, they would never realize it was his Seer ability. Eventually, he supposed, someone might figure out what a Seer's true abilities really was; aside from Seeing the future and past. But now he couldn't dwell on such things.

Lifting the feeling of horror and replacing it with fatigue, Harry stepped swiftly between the aisle of bodies, glaring at them. Their eyes were looking up at him in barely hidden surprise. Pulling his hood down, he held his hand out, palm facing downward. The pile of pebbles from the caving roof flew and hit his hand. He then cupped them in his hand, looking at them in the eye.

"Fools," he hissed quietly, dangerously. "You'll bring down the roof with your brainless actions. And in the process you'll alert the enemy of our presence. If you haven't done so already." With an added affect, he tossed the pebbles at the wizards at his feet. Across from him, he watched the tall and thin figure of the Dark Lord slither his way closer inside the cave.

Around Harry, the wizards finally pushed away the Seer magic and stood up shakily. The respected sides split apart, making an aisle. Harry stood in the center of them, chin up, watching Lord Voldemort make his way slowly toward him.

" _I leave you alone for hardly a day and where does that bring you? In a cave with the enemies."_ Voldemort hissed in Parseltongue. Harry smirked. No one knew of his ability to speak Parseltongue _but_ Bellatrix, his family, and Voldemort. He wouldn't spoil that surprise for the Order and the other Death Eaters.

"Lord Voldemort," Harry greeted coolly. He could feel the suspicious stares from the Order and decided to act as professional as he could.

"Harrison Malfoy," Voldemort greeted back, the underlying tone of irritation coming through in his crimson eyes. Harry felt a few flashes of fear from the Order. No matter how brave they may seem, Harry knew they were petrified of the Dark Lord.

"I have a pact I'd like to make with you." He cocked his head to the side, aware of Snape approaching from the underground tunnel and stepping behind him. "We are both here for something we want. He has your Death Eaters," he paused just briefly, remembering their dead bodies. Voldemort knew this. He knew his followers were dead. So he was here on behalf of getting Lucius alive. That touched Harry. Faintly. "And he has my father. Why not just put aside our…differences and work together to bring down Lord Octavio?" His eyes flashed as he looked at the wizards around them. "Afterwards we can bring down the cave all we want."

Voldemort stood straight, his shoulders set and the air around him buzzing with his magic. "After you, Mr. Malfoy." He made a mocking bow, motioning for Harry to lead. "I will take the rear." Crimson eyes became intense as he swept his gaze down Harry's body.

Clenching his jaw, Harry turned his back on the Dark Lord and motioned for the Order to follow. He saw and felt some of their disagreement with the prospect of working with the Dark Lord and his lackeys and the part of Harry leading, but they wouldn't speak up. Not after his demonstration of magic. Flashing them all a grin, he approached the tunnel. Jumping down, he used his magic this time around to cushion his shoulders from the rocky walls. Landing in a crouch, he straightened up quickly and moved out of the way for the others to follow.

Walking away from the tunnel, he raised his wand, casting eerie shadows across the cave. There was only one way to go and he started making his way, doubtless of the fact not everyone was down the tunnel yet. They would follow.

He kept his pace passive, feeling Lupin and Sirius and Snape coming close behind him. Following the winding tunnel, it was in no time at all that the two groups were on the same pace. Harry was hypersensitive of Voldemort's presence behind him. The Dark Lord kept to his word and brought up the rear. But it didn't matter if he was feet away, Harry could still feel his gaze drilling into the back of his head.

The tension in the air between the Order and the Death Eaters were high, choking Harry's Seer. "Snape, surprised to see you here…" a Death Eater leered at the potion's professor next to Harry. "Considering-,"

Harry whirled around, his wand pointing directly in the Death Eater's mask. He was getting a migraine. "Shut the bloody hell up." His words were whispered, and he laced the emotion of fear in them, pushing it toward the man. The Death Eater stumbled away from him while his comrades raised their own wands, hesitantly pointing them at him. They were uncertain what to do with him. Harry knew. He was the son of a respected Death Eater. He was a nephew of Bellatrix Lestrange. And he was sure Lord Voldemort had spoken a warning to stay away from him.

"Desist," Voldemort hissed in displeasure. The Death Eaters all shot their wands to the floor, eyes wide in fear of the Dark Lord.

Harry turned back around, shouldering past Sirius and Lupin and falling into stride with a silent Snape. He had a soft spot for the professor. Ever since first year, he had looked up to the man. But Harry knew things would either change or strengthen between the two after he found out which side Snape was truly on.

Ignoring the potions professor's inquiring gaze, Harry stopped in his tracks. Something about this section of the cave felt _off_.

"Ah….Harry?" Sirius croaked. Someone vomited and Harry's shoulders stiffened. His eyes closed, _feeling_ pain. "You may want to take a look at this…"

"Shut up, Black." Snape hissed angrily. "Just continue on, Mr. Malfoy." Snape's hand clutched his shoulder, urging him forward. But something held him back. There was something he needed to see. Pushing away Snape's hold, he turned and glanced where Sirius was standing.

His cousin's face was grey and beaded with sweat. His lightened wand was pointed lazily in a side chamber of the cave while others were crowded around, trying to take a look inside. Some looked sick as they turned away while some Death Eaters turned away nonchalantly. He stepped forward, the wizards crowding around the entrance fell back to allow him entrance. Hesitantly, he pointed his light at the ground.

There, painted so innocently in blood on the floor, was the Seer mark. The mark was painted to the exact angle and curve, the elegant design looking oddly fascinating in crimson. Holding his breath, he shot his wand hand up, blazing the side chamber with light. Feeling the bile in his throat, he gave a grimace as he looked up. All around him, heads were engraved within the stone. But not just any faces…

They were all heads of Seer. Every face held two noticeable traits; vivid eye colors and the Seer mark on their cheek. He spun in circles, feeling dizzy. The heads were preserved, looking as if they were freshly beheaded. And they were all looking down at him. Horrified, pained, shocked, frightened. He saw young children and he saw old men and women. And they were of different nationalities.

Lord Octavio had been speaking the truth. He _was_ after the Seer. And by the looks of the different nationalities on the ceiling, Britain was his last stop. There were more than thirty in the chamber. How many Seer were there? Why hadn't Pythia told him about the seriousness of this? Was this another leap he had to get through on his own without her help? But he remembered her warning before he came here. She said _he_ was more than just a painted face.

Would she have such sympathy for a Demon who had killed so many of their kind?

The world spun before him and he stumbled on his feet. His Seer was hyperactive and felt all the dead's fear. Breathing irregularly, his vision flashed.

_ Pythia stood tall, her face gleaming with such strength and beauty. Seeing her now, Harry knew she had never looked so beautiful. Her nose was pouring blood, falling down her lips and dripping off her chin. Looking closer, he saw that her leg was twisted the wrong way. _

" _Pythia," Harry whispered, horrified. She was still standing._

" _You may have gained possession of me." Her voice was strong, sturdy. "But you won't get very far after me."_

" _Is that a warning?" Harry turned to stare at the advancing Death Demon. But Octavio looked different, less insane. His bowler hat was absent and the amused grin on his face was now a frown. "Did you See it?" he mocked._

" _I did." She raised her chin, her voice faltering slightly. "He will be your end."_

" _Harrison left." Octavio's lips twisted in a pained smile. "I hold no more attachments to my little Seer."_

_ Pythia laughed. "You lie." She said with such clarity. _

_ Octavio roared; his eyes crazy at her statement. Pulling back an elongated claw, he sliced it across her neck, successfully beheading. _

Harry cried out, feeling himself loose control and loose his footing. But he didn't fall to the crimson painted floor. Instead, warm arms grabbed him and lifted him against a thin chest. A spidery hand cradled his head further into the chest, pushing him into an embrace. Harry inhaled the scent of lilacs, feeling safe for just this moment.

With a cracked open eye, he watched from Voldemort's hold as they left the side chamber and into the original tunnel they had been advancing in. The wizards, both light and dark, stared wide eyed at the image the Dark Lord made. Harry supposed he should pull away and climb away from Voldemort's hold. But if the Dark Lord wasn't worried about the public appearance, then he would enjoy this as long as possible.

His head ached and Voldemort finally set him down against a wall. Everyone crowded around, staring at him. Across the room, Harry was aware of Lupin's animalistic growls and whimpers. His Seer must have affected the werewolf. They were much more sensitive to the Seer then humans. "Remus…"Sirius attempted to calm him down.

But he wouldn't calm down until Harry was calmed down.

Voldemort leaned forward, throwing a privacy shield around them. The Order and the Death Eaters wouldn't be able to actually see or hear anything. It would all be a confused blur to them. "I'm fine," Harry tried to push away from the cold wall. He hated being seen as weak, especially around his Match.

"You're not."

"I am." Harry gave a sigh, rubbing his palm against his forehead. "I just Saw Pythia Zabini's death." Green eyes locked with crimson. The Dark Lord didn't really seem sympathetic. "And I realized that Octavio really is hunting the Seer." He looked away from Voldemort. "I just want to find my father, my Lord."

Voldemort tisked; crouching down on the balls of his feet in front of him. "And I want to know why you're here with the Order."

Harry placed his head against the cold stone, surveying the man before him. A smirk lifted the smaller wizard's mouth. Might as well tell him. "I agreed to an Unbreakable Bond with Dumbledore." He paused, watching the pupil's in Voldemort's eyes slit further in rage. "I vowed that I would remain neutral in this war for this school year. And in return, he would give me the whereabouts of my father and let him loose without any charge of Death Eater involvement."

Voldemort's long fingers plunged down his cloak and grabbed the burning Horcrux. It was a flash from the past as Voldemort used it to strangle him. Harry gagged, his head being unnaturally lifted at an odd angle. Voldemort's nose was closing in on his own. "You are an idiot. What game do you think you're playing with the old fool? Surely not a game you think you can win at."

"No," Harry breathed, eyes widening in wonder at the black dots in front of his vision. "I'm playing the same game you and he are."

"Fool," Voldemort repeated, loosening the slack to the chain. Harry gave a strangled breath. "You are too young to play."

"But not too young to lie in bed with you." The Dark Lord hissed. "You underestimate me." Harry accused.

"No, I do not underestimate you. I just think you aren't as bright as you think you are."

Harry's lips flattened into a thin line, tugging back on the chain. His head snapped back as Voldemort shortened the slack again. "I'll prove to you just how bright I am. You'll see." He spoke with such determination. His chest quivered with the resolve of proving himself to the world. To himself. "I'll outdo both you and Dumbledore."

"That's a large burden to carry, little one." And with that, Voldemort crushed his lips to his own. It wasn't a compassionate kiss, more of a claim to who was the dominant one in the relationship. Harry was still strung up by the chain, his small body being crushed underneath the Dark Lord's large one and the sharp wall. He refused to give Voldemort the satisfaction of taking control. With just as much force as the older man, Harry pushed back into Voldemort, wanting to fully possess the man.

It seemed to all fall away from him.

He was no longer surrounded by the Order and the Death Eaters, his father wasn't being held against his will, and he wasn't struggling to show his standings in this war…

Now. Now there was only Lord Voldemort.

Harry was consumed by the heat between them, their magic merging together as one. He shuddered at the passion the kiss entitled as it turned more fierce and powerful as the seconds went on. Through his Seer, he could feel the same emotions radiating from Voldemort.

Growling, Harry bit straight through Voldemort's lower lip, instantly tasting the crimson blood. The chain around him slackened and the older wizard pulled away, his eyes wild. "Then I wish you all the luck, Harry." The man leaned forward, his bloody lips close to Harry's ear. "Because if you loose your standings, you'll be my possession." Harry pushed at his chest, standing up and dropping the privacy shield.

The Dark Lord thought he was all high and mighty…

Harry took a deep breath, calmly tucking in the Horcrux underneath his robes again. He knew exactly what Voldemort had meant. The man was giving him an opportunity to stand up and become his own threat to Dumbledore and the world. But if Harry failed again, the Dark Lord would always stand before Harry, shielding him. Harry wouldn't be able to spread his wings and stand alone.

He wouldn't allow that to happen.

Snape caught his eye, those black eyes intense and curious. Harry met his eyes levelly.

And then his gaze strayed over Snape's shoulder, meeting mercury.

He blinked.

"Father."


	17. Don't Try to Fix Me, I'm Not Broken

** Chapter Seventeen: Don't Try to Fix Me. I'm Not Broken **

"Father."

Lucius Malfoy looked just as proud and sophisticated as he always did, even in a dark cave. The long blond hair was down to his shoulder blades, no snarls present. From the light of their wands, his rings flashed back smartly. Around his neck, a Death Eater mask hung; abandoned. The only problem; he was in a glass box. His face was nothing but a slack expression- almost if he were a stuffed mannequin.

Shouts spread across the cave, some confused, some outraged.

"He's playing with you, Harrison." Snape came up beside him, placing a hesitant hand on his shoulder.

"I knew it!" An Order member shouted in glee, pointing at the Head of the Malfoy family. "He _is_ a Death Eater; nasty, scum, pathetic lot." And then hell broke loose. Mad Eye Moody, whose hand had been twitching all along, struck first. He threw nasty curses and hexes at the Death Eater's, cackling in delight as they went down. The Death Eaters took the defensive, fighting back just as maliciously. All around them, spells were being hurtled and one even brushed past Harry.

The spell burned the side of his neck, but he didn't flinch. His attention was on his father. So lifeless…so… Harry cocked his head to the side, staring at him fully. He was vaguely aware of Voldemort trying to control the lot, his sights set on Mad Eye Moody. The Dark Lord would probably kill the ex-Auror just for the hell of it. What better time to get him than now?

Harry turned toward Snape, who happened to be far away from the break out of duelers. "He's not real. That's not Lucius." The potion master gave him a long look and then studied Lucius. Harry had a bad taste in his mouth. "What if he doesn't even have my father? What if…" he paused, glancing over his shoulder at the large battle behind him. "What if he planned all this? What if he played on my ability to See and planned it all?"

"You think he set this all up in order to gain possession of you?" It was more of an understanding statement than a question.

"Or is he just placing mannequins up, in order to lure me somewhere?" Harry wondered. "To taunt me." Ignoring the fight, Harry continued deeper down the tunnel. He didn't need a bunch of idiots following him, especially if they were like this.

Professor Snape followed at his side. He didn't say anything about leaving the others behind. Harry was more then aware of Snape's dissatisfaction of the fighting wizards. "You're not getting one over on Sirius, Professor?" Harry asked, turning sharply down the tunnel. Snape made a sound of disagreement in his throat, making Harry grin. He could hear some wizards follow after them, afraid of being left outnumbered. As much as they despised Harrison Malfoy, they knew he was someone who could hold up against Lord Voldemort.

Turning to glance over his shoulder, Harry's eye twitched as he saw them still fighting…mobile this time. Mad Eye Moody was spitting angry, his human eye full of rage at seeing Death Eaters walk so freely in front of him. And the curses he shot out weren't exactly light and fuzzy.

Without watching where he was going, the floor seemingly opened up beneath him. "Harrison!" Snape tried lunging for him, but he was too late. Giving a shout, Harry fell down the deep pit, his body spiraling down on a metallic looking slide. Throwing back his head, he watched the floor that had opened so easily, slam with a loud 'bang'. No one had been able to jump after him.

Calming his raging emotions, he allowed the slide to take him to depths below.

** -SSC- **

They were all cowards. The lot of them.

Snape sneered as they all stepped away from the floor that had just opened abruptly. Silence filtered across the recently noisy tunnel as they all stared stupidly. "Fools," the Dark Lord whispered softly, dangerously. Snape stiffened at the tone, knowing full well that the Dark Lord wanted to _Crucio_ someone.

"Good riddance," an Order member mumbled.

Black growled, turning on the one who had spoken against Harrison. "That's my cousin, you bloody idiot." The damned werewolf held the mutt back. "You'd do best to shut your mouth."

It had been impressing, watching Harrison at work when the Death Eaters arrived. For being a master Occlumens, he was able to block out the Seer magic Harrison used, but it was difficult. He had never experienced such magic from someone other than the Dark Lord and Albus Dumbledore. The boy was a powerful force to be reckoned with. And he had matured greatly from the unsure little boy he had seen the past few months to a young man, struggling to find his balance.

Albus was more than anxious to have the Seer on the light, despite seeming to have something up his sleeve. And the Dark Lord and the boy seemed…close. If it had been another who had stood up to the Dark Lord in the mouth in the cave, suggesting to be on the same side for one mission, Severus was positive the said wizard would be shot down with an _Avada Kedavra._ But not Harrison Malfoy. Instead of being treated coldly from the Dark Lord, he was cradled to the man's chest after almost collapsing in the Seer room the Death Demon had made. And after the Dark Lord Voldemort had placed up a strong privacy shield, a shield Mad Eye Moody couldn't even see through, Severus was observant enough to watch the two split- looking awfully bothered.

And then Harrison had tucked an ancient looking locket underneath his robes, a locket that clearly had an elegant 'S' carved on the front in emeralds.

He wasn't an idiot. He knew it was a Slytherin heirloom. And he knew the Dark Lord was a descendant to the Slytherin family.

There was something beneath the scenes, something Severus desired to know. He wasn't strong enough to perform Legilimency on a Seer and Harrison didn't have any good friends he could pick apart to find the answers. This was something he needed to find out for himself. What he would do with the information once he found out was still up in the air.

Was Harrison already on the dark side, like his father? Or was he more than acquaintances with the Dark Lord, something that ran deeper? There had to be a reason why Harrison was carrying a Slytherin heirloom around his neck. And lastly, but certainly not least, what was it about Harrison that caused the Dark Lord to bow to someone other than himself? Leading the rear, allowing Harrison to lead, bowing mockingly at the mouth of the cave; it all pointed to lenience. And the Dark Lord was _never_ lenient.

"Stuff it, Black. The reason for our mission is gone. Your little 'cousin' will have his head chopped off like the rest of the Seer. I say we head back. Tell Albus we had no luck." Snape watched Black's vein in his neck pulse. It was rather amusing to see another Order member, who had been recently quivering in pleasure at Harrison's magic, talk big when the source of his fear was no longer there.

Before Black could bark out any insults, there was a soft laughter issuing across the cave.

From the expressions on everyone's faces, it was clear their hair stood on the back of their neck as well as his. The laugh was uncanny, soft, and dangerous. It chilled everyone present. From the shadows, the Dark Lord stepped halfway into their wand light. Snape swallowed, forcing his expression to remain stoic.

Others would claim the Dark Lord exceptionally beautiful and handsome with his sharp facial plans and artistic features, but Severus did not agree. Beautiful and handsome was Harrison Malfoy when he wasn't using his deadly Seer magic. Lord Voldemort was precarious, not beautiful. The Dark Lord's appearance was a misconception. He _wanted_ his enemies, even his followers to think him handsome. And when they were dazed or lust hazed, that's when the Dark Lord would spill blood.

Seeing him now, hidden partially in the shadows, Snape's notion was only proved. Crimson eyes seemed to glow and his mouth was twisted in malicious humor.

"Oh, my dear boy…" he whispered. Pale and long fingers caressed his wand lovingly. "I'm afraid with your 'leader' gone, your peace maker gone; you won't be… _heading back_ as you so put it." The Order stiffened, backing up a step as they felt the Dark Lord's magic curl around their throats as a warning.

And then everything broke apart.

The Death Eater's took their Master's words as an 'ok' to attack. And they did. With vengeance, they pounced on the Order, a drive to kill. Being confused as both a Death Eater and an Order member, Snape was left out of most the attack. Instead, his eyes were on the Dark Lord. The powerful wizard was in the shadows once more, wrapping his magic around the trap door Harrison had disappeared through. From as much as Snape could see, the Dark Lord wasn't having any luck.

With an angry hiss, his magic spread through the cave. "Retreat," Mad Eye Moody growled, his magical eye rolling around in his skull. Snape sneered at the sight. The ex-Auror had a few Death Eaters bound and levitated, ready to bring to the Ministry, but the Dark Lord's magic wrapped angrily around Mad Eye's and snapped the bound Death Eaters out of his grasp.

Snape hesitated, watching Black and Lupin do the same. They looked at each other and forced one another to retreat with the rest of the Order. He came with the Order. Should he leave with the Order or blend in with the Death Eaters and observe how it all worked out?

"Leave Severus," the hissing quality turned deeply serpentine, easily signaling the Dark Lord was angry. His gaze swept over to the tall figure. The crimson gaze wasn't directed at him, but at the trap door. "I am in no mood for your games."

He knew when to press and when not to. With one last glance at the glaring eyes through the metallic Death Eater masks, Severus stepped over a dead body of an Order member.

** -SSC- **

Standing stiffly, he observed his surroundings. He was standing on bones that cracked and snapped with each step he took. Everything was dark except for the body of water across from him. It gleamed metallic in the dark environment, reflecting off the high rocky walls. The ceiling was too far up for him to see where it ended, but he knew he was below sea level. His breath was visible and the puddles of water near the skulls were frozen over by ice.

To him, he considered this scene to be oddly beautiful.

Of course, the only thing ruining it was the Mimes. Their lifeless eyes followed his movements in the dark and their panted faces appeared ghosts in the shadows. They weren't attacking, only mockingly observing him. He could see the one white glove they wore, knowing the other was black and hidden in the dimness. Their crimson robes were somewhat seeable, but he didn't look too long on them.

What he was focused on, was the small, rickety boat sitting in the body of water. Inside, there was a Mime holding an oar. With a black gloved hand, it motioned Harry to come closer. Knowing that at the end of the body of water held both his father and Octavio, Harry approached the boat. The craft was full of uneven wood, likely to give him slivers, but he entered anyway. As predicted, his hands got cut up from the wood, drawing blood.

Clenching his jaw, Harry calmly sat down, his hands curled in his lap, watching as the Mime began to row across the body of water. Brilliant green eyes glanced over the Mime's shoulder in order to see their destination. He saw an island of sorts sitting so unearthly in the middle of the metallic water. It wasn't far out, about a couple of minutes if the Mime continued on the speed it was currently.

Turning his attention on the lifeless body in front of him, Harry studied the face smiling back at him. The Mime was a female with a man's haircut. Age was indescribable as she rowed the small boat toward the other end of the lake, pond, whatever it was. She appeared to be in her late teens, early twenties. The dark eyes looking back at him were absent of any life, any acknowledgment to what she was before being her Master's Mime.

Death Demons ate their victim's insides, mostly the blood, but sometimes they enjoyed a few organs inside the body cavity. With their powers, they were able to preserve the body's freshness and pull the strings. Somehow, Death Demons were able to preserve the victim's mind, allowing their puppet to still move about and cast magic. On their orders of course.

It was far too complex for Harry to truly understand. And there weren't many books on Death Demons.

Breathing heavily, he closed his eyes and listened to the lull of the water against the boat. Her smile was starting to unnerve him.

His thoughts took him back to the side chamber in the cave. All those heads lost from Seer. He knew Death Demons worked for Fate and Seer were working against Fate- simply by Seeing into the future and changing Fate's course. But he never knew the hatred Death Demons carried for Seer were so high, that one would personally hunt them like a serial killer.

There had to be more to Octavio's hate for Seer, other than the usual rivalry between Death Demons and Seer. _He's more than just a painted face._

Eyes snapping open, Harry lurched forward as the boat hit land. Instantly, his Seer was suffocated by the thick emotion here. There was intense loneliness, cruelty, and self-hatred. The loneliness outweighed any emotion Harry had ever felt. And it was even more surprising knowing it wasn't coming from his father, but Octavio.

Shakily stepping out of the boat, Harry stumbled on the hard ground. It appeared to be caked mud and stone. Nothing very comfortable to live on and he knew this _had_ to be Octavio's domain.

Continuing forward, leaving the motionless Mime back in the boat, Harry took his surroundings in once again. It was an odd atmosphere. Random items were strewn across the island. In the far corner, there appeared to be another cave dug into the wall. Inside, there was a light on, revealing a couch and a large desk with multiple of tomes and books scattered across. But something told Harry his father nor Octavio were in there.

Looking away from the small dwelling, he observed the pile of discarded bodies. The bodies were dressed of crimson robes and the customary Mime costume; obviously broken or unused soldiers for Octavio. Off to the side, there was an operating table. The metallic shine of the table reflected back off the small candles littered around the island. Clean and sterilized utensils were carefully laid out next to the table, ready to be used once again.

Harry shuddered, feeling an echo of pain through the dwelling. Was this where Octavio consumed his victims? Where he experimented? Everywhere he turned, he could feel the overwhelming emotion of hate and loneliness.

And then he saw him.

Lucius Malfoy was alive and sitting in a box, a similar glass box that Harry had seen upstairs. And he wasn't a Mime. But he looked worse for wear. The blonde hair was tied back in knots with both grease and mud. Usually pale skin was ghastly and stained with dried blood and dirt. But those sharp mercury eyes were still held the same intensity and they were currently directed at him.

"Father," Harry took a step closer. Lucius' eyes watched him approach, a heavy frown on his face, almost a disproving expression. Lucius shook his head, his hand pressed against the glass, looking at Harry with slight desperation.

"Pretty little doll, isn't he?" A voice breathed in his ear. Harry stayed facing forward, feeling slightly nauseated at Ocatvio's emotions. He wondered why he hadn't sensed them before at the ball for his birthday. Perhaps he wasn't concentrating hard enough on just Octavio or maybe it was because of Pythia's warning that he was paying more attention. Whatever it was, Harry had to place a small shield up in order to veil the brunt of the emotions.

"But _not_ as pretty as you, my little Seer." Lips brushed across the shell of his ear and Harry flinched back, whirling around to take in Octavio.

Bloody red hair, eyes, and the designs on his white face were crimson. Everything was a dark red today. "I remembered you like crimson. It's a special occasion." Octavio grinned, revealing his sharp teeth. "Hm." He hummed, taking a step closer. "You look a little…squeamish, my little Seer. Tell me you haven't lost all that _spunk_ I love so much."

"No," Harry lifted his chin, staring at the Death Demon in the eyes. "I just find it hard to look at you after all the things you've done."

Octavio gave a mock frown, thinking over Harry's words. "What I've done?" Crimson painted lips twisted upward. "Oh," he gave a small chuckle. "You must have seen The Seeing Room." A wink. "I named it myself. I'd think you'd be honored with my efforts." Octavio bent down in order to be eye level with Harry. Holding out his hands, palms out, he made a square gesture that appeared to be a picture frame. "I have a gold frame for one last Seer. The Seer I've been longing to get for a long time now."

"Let me guess," Harry's voice came out raw. "Pythia Zabini." He remembered Seeing her death and hoped he could somehow stop it before it came to pass.

Octavio leaned back, clapping his hands in front of his face. "You _are_ good at this, Harrison Regulus." Harry glanced sideways at his father. The man was attentive and rigid. "You amuse me greatly. And you don't underestimate me like every other wizard and human has done before." Harry's ears perked at the statement. Granted, he'd heard that before, that he didn't underestimate Octavio, but now- now it sounded as if it were spoken with underlying emotion. Bitterness.

"I don't," Harry turned his attention back on a grinning Octavio. "Why would I? You have my father locked up like some…animal." More like a mannequin, but Harry wouldn't compare _anything_ to a doll or puppet around Octavio. The man wanted him to connect it like that.

"Don't sound so aggravated, Harrison. It doesn't suit that pretty little face of yours." Cold fingers tapped his chin.

_ A boy shivered against the wall, clutching his knees to his chest. The little boy looked up, revealing startling blue eyes that appeared almost white in color. Fat tears ran down his cheeks in rivulets, smearing the crimson blood on his face. "Please da, no!" The little child flinched as a belt came down on him. _

Harry gasped breathlessly at the vision. He knew it had been Octavio as a youth, or possibly the one abusing. "What do you want with me? With my father?" Octavio grinned, reaching out a hand to pet Harry's hair. He stood their stiffly, able to handle things such as _petting._

"I want _you_. Your head is far too valuable to hang up on an abandoned old wall, Harrison Regulus." The fingers stroked his hair harder. "No, I want you as my own personal assistant. Really, not a Mime, sweet Seer, an assistant."

"An assistant?" Harry asked dubious. "And what's the difference between a Mime and an assistant?"

The hand in his hair left as Octavio curled it underneath his chin. Smiling, the Demon surveyed Harry. "A Mime is my victim, my army, my food. You, my assistant, will still be bodily intact, able to think for yourself at times, and help me…with _things._ " He gave a suggestive smile. "Just think, a Seer by my side. I must be going crazy."

"Perhaps." Harry started grumpily. "What are you going to do with my father then?"

"Tell me, sweet, do you want to stay with Lucius forever? Or do you never want to see him again?" Harry clenched his jaw, hating how Octavio was giving him an amused smile, a knowing smile.

"Do I have a choice?"

"You _always_ have a choice."

Raising an eyebrow, he looked as his father. It was a trick question. Did he want to stay with Lucius forever? Or never see him again? Obviously, Octavio would kill Lucius for the second option but for the first option, Harry didn't know if it was either a positive or negative. "Of course, you don't have to choose now. We have things to _do_ before we need to decide his fate." Becoming wary with Octavio's sadistic expression, Harry brought his magic out in the open.

It probably wasn't the best thing to do around a Death Demon.

Octavio tisked silkily, ruby eyes shining in delight. Before Harry could register what had happened, he was flat on his back, motionless. His muscles were paralyzed and he couldn't even move his eyes. "Remember on your birthday, I bit your little neck?" Yes, he did. It had been incredibly painful. "By biting you, I now can play with you the way I want." Cold hands shot out and grabbed his body, pulling him up bridal style.

Harry couldn't speak; he was a prisoner in his own body, all because of an old bite from a Death Demon. His magic was dormant, not even a glimmer of hope. "Before you become my assistant, there are a few adjustments we must make." Frozenly, Harry watched as he was laid out on the operation table, the cold surface chilling his small body. "You see," Octavio began again, pulling on latex gloves.

Fear welled up in Harry's chest as he tried to struggle against the invisible bonds the Demon placed on him. But everything in his body remained slack as he stared up at the ceiling. "You see, I enjoy my minions to be…silent. I don't like when people talk back to me. It just makes such a mess, if you know what I mean." A scalpel glittered in the dim light, clutched in Octavio's fist. "Now, why don't we adjust your head…just a..." fingers turned his head in the direction of his father. "A bit…"

Sadistic man.

Harry was forced to stare at his father's distressed face. Lucius still had his hands pressed against the glass, probably trying in vain to break it down with his wandless magic. "You'll be _so_ pretty without a voice, my seer." The scalpel came down and sliced across his Seer mark. Harry felt the skin open, but he didn't feel any pain. Perhaps it was a side affect of being bond and seemingly drugged under the Demon's hold. "You'll have to express yourself through those pretty green eyes of yours."

Lucius looked green as he bowed his head away from Harry.

Octavio placed his hand on Harry's head, bracing himself in order to get at the crook of Harry's neck.

_ Harry was sitting next to the boy who had cried in the corner in his earlier vision. He was more than sure it was a young Octavio. The boy was very petite and painfully thin. It was difficult to tell his age, perhaps in his early teens. Octavio was sitting on a park bench, staring at a group of people pass him. It looked like a muggle environment as there were no robes or wands out. Harry studied the young Octavio, taking special interest in his real appearance. _

_ Chocolate brown hair and blue, almost white eyes. He was adorable. _

_ The boy swung his legs back and forth, blinking as he watched a group of sidewalk performers. Harry observed Octavio's lazy interest and turned to see what the boy was looking at. His heart gave a deep thud as he watched two mimes working on the street; their faces a customary white with thick make up. The men and women passing them by turned away, not in the least bit amused- if somewhat frightened. The mimes just frowned and motioned with their hands to one another. _

_ "Smart creatures," a voice murmured into Octavio's ear. Harry turned to study a tall and adult man, leering in Octavio's ear. The boy had stiffened and the feeling of fear was thick. "They hide behind a mask. No emotion needs to seep through." The man had vivid brown eyes and when he turned to look at the mimes, Harry witnessed a Seer mark on his cheek. "no… _ weakness. _"_

_ Standing up, Harry stood in front of them, wanting to see better. _

_ Octavio's legs had stopped swinging and he looked in front of him in a tunnel like vision. The Seer gave a deep chuckle, touching Octavio's hair. "Emotions are what control our lives. They are so…powerful. One chemically negative emotion and you'll have suicide, murder, depression." Harry was captivated by the scene in front of him. Octavio must have known the Seer and vice versa to give off such fear. _

" _You're father killed my lover." The Seer's voice was bitter as he gave a leer at the child. "He_ ate _her." Octavio whimpered, clutching the bench with white knuckles. "You Demons are_ vile _creatures." The hand petting Octavio's hair paused. "But I won't hurt you, it wasn't your fault after all." Octavio slumped his shoulders in relief. "But that doesn't mean I can't play with your family. With your father." Straightening up, the Seer gave Octavio a sick smile. "You'll understand then, that Seer are the superior creatures. And that emotion is our weakness."_

_ And then the Seer disappeared. _

_ Giving one last glance at the mimes, Octavio stood up and ran home. _

Harry breathed raggedly as he felt the scalpel open his throat like butter. He couldn't feel a thing, but judging from his father's ill expression, he knew it was a horrible sight. "The voice box is considered the larynx. If I tamper and cut a few cords and cartilage, you'll be all set for my assistant role."

_ Standing there, Harry breathed in the fear and the confusion. The usually warm family had turned sour. _

_ Green eyes were locked on the young Octavio, feeling the emotional anguish coming from the youth. Falling to his knees, Harry attempted to take calming breaths, the overwhelming pain too much. For feeling such pain, the little boy didn't show any tears, only appearing as a stiff board. White-blue eyes stared at the scene in front of him. _

_ His mother had a noose around her neck, her delicate feet swinging softly back and forth in the open air. _

Tears fell down his cheeks. The overwhelming feelings, the emotions, they were too much for a Seer; especially a Seer without a barrier. Octavio was a screwed up individual because he was tampered with by a Seer in his childhood. No wonder he hated so much. The scalpel sliced something apart in his throat. It could have been a thick piece of skin, or maybe cartilage, whatever it was, his father turned away again.

"Pity you'll have a scar. You're skin is so flawless…"

Octavio had scars. Deep, emotional scars.

_ He was back in another vision, staring at the mime again. But this time, the Octavio next to him was no longer a young child, but a young adult. His eyes were void, staring at the performer across the street. Sitting next to him, Harry knew things about him that no other would know. To passerbyers, they saw a lonely boy or a pensive young man. They were right, but only just scrapping the surface. Harry felt the rejection in Octavio, he could feel the painful welts and bruises across his body from his father's beatings. And he could feel the confusion from Octavio who had just killed his father and the feeling of success for just escaping his hell. _

_ Their family had once been happy, but because of the Seer, they were turned into a broken family. All through Octavio's life, because of the Seer, no one ever befriended him. They saw him as a freak, someone unworthy of acceptance and love. His mother, whom had been the light in his life, had hung herself after being affected by the Seer's powers. And the man he looked up to as his father, turned his affection into violence. _

_ Harry could feel the young Demon's thoughts. No one would accept him. Not one. _

" _Emotions are weak," Octavio whispered to himself, staring at the mime. "But behind a mask…no one will ever_ see. _"_

_ Staying on the bench, Harry watched Octavio stand up and make his way over to the mime. Something inside him snapped that day, turning him into the crazed man he was today. _

Was it perhaps his growing ability that caused him to See so much of Octavio? Or was it just because of the close contact? Harry hoped it was the first.

Seer were powerful creatures, the one in Octavio's life was a good example. Harry didn't think there was anything wrong with what the Seer had done to Octavio's family, simply because he would do the same if a loved one was killed. But he did think Octavio wasn't the one that should have been affected. Because of growing up with rejection and violence, Octavio never experienced acceptance.

And that was his weakness.

Feeling something inside him grow, Harry's hand shot out and curled around Octavio's wrist. Green eyes averted from his father to Octavio's surprised stare. And with a heavy heart, Harry poured emotion into Octavio. Emotion the man had never remembered. Emotion that he would never connect with a Seer using.

Love. A mother's love, Octavio's mother. And with the love, he poured warm acceptance, affection, and approval.

Octavio's eyes lost their craziness, their mask, and turned to shock. Harry held onto the wrist even after Octavio tried to pull away abruptly. The instruments around them clattered to the floor as Octavio tried to rear back, away from Harry. And then he stilled as Harry pushed away the feeling of solitude and isolation. It was so thick and packed inside Octavio that it took a large push to take it all out.

Harry never experienced anything like Octavio before. It made him almost certain that the Seer had planted dark seeds of emotion inside the Death Demon. And those dark seeds had planted and grew inside their victim, tearing away at his sanity.

Sweating and trembling, Harry cleared dark emotions, shedding light and neutral emotions on the void spaces after the sinister sentiments left holes. He had never thought he would be clearing out dark emotions from an individual. He had always imagined pouring ominous emotions into someone, leaving them to collapse from weakness. Giving light so freely like this, gave him a bad taste in his mouth. It wasn't his favorite thing to do, but for some strange reason, he felt as if he _should_ be doing this for Octavio; despite the fact he didn't owe the man anything.

After he cleared out all the planted emotions the Seer had left inside Octavio, Harry collapsed in aftershock. What he did, it wouldn't affect Octavio's personality very much. The man would still bear the emotional scars and have somewhat of the same personality. But this time around, he might be a tad less insane without the seedlings the Seer had planted.

After this, Harry vowed he would practice some dark Seer magic. Egh. This was far too much _light._ He had an idea what to experiment with. Depression. And seeds. Or Seeds. He'd call them Seeds. Looking into Octavio's troubled aura and soul gave him many ideas for his enemy.

Octavio shuddered next to him, staring at him with too many emotions. It gave him a headache. "Get out," Octavio whispered, waving his hand in the direction of Lucius. The glass cage disappeared. _"Get out."_ He said more fiercely, turning his back and stalking back into his dwelling. Harry was far too weak to lift himself up.

He felt his father rush over to him and then everything went black.

** -SSC- **

"Harrison…"

Harry breathed.

"Harrison," someone shook him gently. Merlin. He saved the bloody idiot and he was waking him _up._ He needed to sleep. Lifting up a hand he batted away the hand. "Harrison, sweetie." It was his mother's voice now. "You need to wake up and speak."

The smell of lilacs and all other types of auras made him aware his parent's weren't the only ones here.

Something cold probed his sore neck. Now that he was awake and aware, he could feel how…butchered his throat felt. It was difficult to swallow, more than difficult. And it _burned_. Blinking open his eyes, he saw a handful of people looking down at him. His father, who was still dirty, his mother, a Healer, and the Dark Lord. "Mr. Malfoy, you need to speak. I need to see if I've mended your larynx well enough."

Harry's fingers ventured up to his cheek, feeling for any wounds Octavio gave him on the Seer mark. It was healed already.

A hand grabbed his wandering one, squeezing it. Narcissa gave him a warm smile, brushing back his hair. "Come now, darling. Can't you speak?" She looked uncertain but there was more to it than that. Her face was shallow and slightly grey. The fingers holding his were incredibly thin and fragile like.

Pressing his lips together, he looked up at the ceiling, gathering courage to break through the burn at his throat. His free hand danced up to his throat, intent on feeling, until it was snatched by long fingers. "Not the best idea," the Dark Lord advised.

The Healer gave a sheepish shrug, holding up his wand and a few silver instruments. "I still need to close it up."

The Dark Lord pulled at Harry's hand, drawing attention onto him. _"Start slow, little one. Parseltongue is much easier on your throat than human tongue."_ Harry's arm was strung up in Voldemort's hold and he fell limp like a rag doll. He had no strength. Of course no one here would know, because they weren't _there_. His father was, granted, but Lucius wouldn't understand how much magic he used to get rid of the Seeds inside Octavio.

Staring into the slit crimson eyes, Harry opened his mouth. _"F-fine."_ It burned incredibly and hot tears sprang to his throat. "I'm…fine." He spoke English, blacking out once again from the pain.

** -SSC- **

Red eyes stared at the collapsed form of his Match. They would be having a discussion when the child woke up once again.

"Lucius?" he murmured silkily. The blonde man looked up. His crimson eyes stayed locked on his Match. "I think it's time for us to complete the Ritual. A week's time, we will gather your son and the other four and complete the _Cannius_ Ritual."

"Yes, My Lord."


	18. Still in the Dark

** Chapter Eighteen: Still in the Dark **

Emerald eyes snapped open and then closed with a crinkle. Lips cascaded down his neck, tugging playfully at the bandage wrapped around his throat. Harry was crushed against the mattress and the hard body above him. _"You fool,"_ Harry hissed softly, feeling better talking in Parseltongue than in English. Still, his throat burned, reminding him of what had transpired yesterday. _"If you were anyone else, I'd have you convulsing on the floor."_

" _I see no problem with that. I'd even do it for you."_ Voldemort hissed back, getting playful with his tongue. It moistened the shell of his ear with saliva. Harry shuddered, feeling content and unhappy at the same time. That was what the Dark Lord did to him. He gave him conflicting emotions, emotions that were opposites in each other. Cold and hot, comfortable and uncomfortable, hazy mind and utterly aware…

" _Possessive…"_ Harry scolded. _"That's unbecoming."_ Even in snake language, his voice sounded hoarse.

" _I see nothing wrong with being possessive of my Match."_ Harry opened his eyes, turning around to face the Dark Lord. His hands were clutching the man's face, holding him back.

" _What did you want?"_ Crimson eyes narrowed on him.

" _Whoever said I can't just…lay with you?"_ Voldemort pushed away his hands and dived back to caress his sore neck with his mouth.

Harry scoffed, wincing as his throat protested with the hearty sound. Merlin. He was going to have difficulty talking this coming…month. _"A Dark Lord doesn't just_ lay _, he has an alternative motive."_ Looking at the ceiling of his bedroom, he contemplated on how long he had been sleeping. And if his parent's were staying far away from this room as possible. _"You want sex, don't you?"_

The Dark Lord hissed in laughter _"I_ always _want sex with you, Harrison. But I'm afraid with your throat not working properly; you won't be able to scream as pleasingly as much as I want you to. And those lovely sounds you make…I couldn't imagine experiencing your first time without a sound."_ Voldemort murmured silkily. _"And I need to hear you beg me, Harrison."_ Harry grinned, feeling his throat burn with just the prospect of screaming. Merlin, that wouldn't exactly feel good. Voldemort pulled away eventually, just as Harry started to doze off again.

Crimson eyes stared down at him, the man's black hair a slight mess. "What happened with Octavio?"

Harry turned away from him, looking at the wall across the room. His room. His thoughts were brought back to the Death Demon. What Octavio had gone through as a child was unfair. Surely Harry would to the same to his enemies if they ate his mother like Octavio's father had eaten the Seer's lover, but he would never play with a child like Octavio. Children were rather…innocent in Harry's mind. They didn't understand what was happening around them, and they surely didn't understand why they were being targeted by a Seer for something their father did.

"I…" Harry whispered; his lips barely moving. "That is something between Octavio and I."

He could feel Voldemort's anger. "Ah," he murmured. "I see." The man's spidery fingers tugged at the chain around his neck. "You should know that the Demon got away." Bitter, but he was hiding it rather well. Harry frowned, his face still turned away from Voldemort. There was _something_ off about the Dark Lord. "I will be doing the _Cannius_ Ritual in a week's time."

Harry turned slowly to face the man, seeing no expression on that handsome face. _"The ritual with Draco and the other four…"_ Harry hissed, surveying Voldemort's face, a sign for anything. _"You sharing magic,"_ a grin lifted on Harry's face. With almost childlike wonder, Harry reached out to touch Voldemort's cheek. _"You promise me, this won't harm Draco?"_

"I promised you before, Harrison." No flinch, no lie, no emotion. A blank slate.

Harry frowned, his stomach knotting up. Voldemort must have still been angry at Harry for keeping information on Octavio to himself.

Yes, that must be all it was.

With his fingers tracing Voldemort's cheekbones, Harry breathed, studying the slit crimson eyes. A cold hand curled around his own face, the pad of Voldemort's thumb brushing underneath the brilliant green eye. A rare touch from the man, so gentle and enticing. Harry chose to savior the tender caress of the Dark Lord and closed his eyes.

Unaware to him, the Dark Lord was watching him almost obsessively as he nodded off. The hand still laid gently on his cheek.

** -SSC- **

They were all staring at him as if he were an insane wizard. "I'm glad you made it out, Mr. Malfoy." Dumbledore murmured for the rest of them. The Order, or, the ones how had gone with Harry to gather Lucius where all in Dumbledore's office. Some where stuffed side by side in chairs, while others practically glued themselves to the walls. Severus Snape, in particular, was dwelling in his shadow. Harry was well aware of the man's pensive stare at the back of his head.

Let the man try to understand him. Harry was curious to know if Snape would figure him out by the time Harry figured _him_ out.

Harry nodded at the Headmaster, making a show of cupping his throat with his fingers. Hell, he had a more than good enough excuse to not talk. Already, he had told them in a raspy whisper what happened with his throat. But other than the gory details, Harry didn't tell them anything about what had happened. Like Voldemort, Dumbledore seemed a little bit put out at the lack of information.

"On behalf of the Order, I'd like to apologize for not succeeding in rescuing you, Mr. Malfoy." Dumbledore gave a sad smile, fooling everyone but Harry. "They tried their best."

_ I'm sure. _

Harry shrugged, motioning his head toward the door. His throat really hurt, for talking so much to the old fool. "Ah," Dumbledore nodded. "If that is all, you may take your leave." Harry stood up, glancing at the few Order members. He met eyes with Sirius and Lupin, giving them a brief nod. He would need to talk with them at a later date, especially the werewolf. Lupin was giving him devastated looks, looks that Harry knew were flustered and full of embarrassment. Surely he knew the affects of Seer on magical creatures…

Walking down the spiral staircase, he was aware of Snape stalking behind him. The man was as quiet as a shadow, but Harry was hyperaware of the dark emotions in the man. He was a walking sore thumb.

Before Harry could begin a conversation, that would no doubt be interesting, someone hissed at him in the shadows. "Harry!" A tight sneer dropped on Harry's lips as he caught sight of the Golden Trio. It wasn't after curfew, so Snape couldn't take points and send them to detention… meaning, Harry had to deal with them.

The potions master passed, his own sneer directed at the three in the shadows. Harry pursed his lips, pausing to stand in front of them.

With new eyes, he surveyed the three of them. Each one of them was studied under his eye as he scooped his guinea pig. Which one would be Harrison Malfoy's first victim of Seeds? The Seeds would start off small, granted, but with time- they would bloom into full grown roots, destroying their victim. Unlike Octavio's Seeds, Harry wouldn't plant feelings of rejection or loneliness. No, he wanted to try something a little more… _suicidal._

After what these three did to him, he saw no fault in his actions. The only problem was picking out his victim.

Out of the three, he knew Granger was the smartest, most logical. She was the least suicidal of all three. To her, life was nothing but a challenge, a challenge that she wanted to strive at. Longbottom came next. He, of course, was probably the most logic one to use. Being the boy-who-lived would be absolutely _taxing._ Poor child, having to deal with two powerful wizards after him...

But he couldn't use Longbottom. Not when the Dark Lord's soul resided inside the boy. Harry grimaced at that notion, wondering if Longbottom was even aware of such a thing as a Horcrux.

So. The only option left was Weasley.

Harry's grimace turned into a mental smile. Yes, Ronald Weasley had motives to attempt suicide. Being in the shadow to both his friends and his family would be wearing. Harry could work with this…

"What happened in there-," Longbottom started, but Granger elbowed the boy-who-lived, giving Harry a smile.

"What he wanted to say was to apologize to you about our behavior at the Three Broomsticks. It was injustice of us to degrade you so." Looking into her brown eyes, Harry tisked. _I'm afraid, my dear, that you are a few years late for that apology._ "Will you accept our apology?" Granger asked hopefully.

Someone stepped up behind Harry and without turning, he was aware of Zabini's presence. As a true Slytherin, Blaise stayed silent, giving the Golden Trio a stare down his nose. "Accept your apology…" Harry mused out loud, watching Weasley flush red with impatience. The boy's eyes glared over Harry's shoulder at the intimidating height of Blaise. Using his Seer, he poked at Ronald, testing the aura and soul.

He was immediately disappointed.

Ronald's aura was already…choppy with holes and blackness. Not the type of darkness Voldemort would have, but blackness of self-pity and depression. This would be an easy catch, something that Harry found both disappointing and acceptable at the same time. He would be distracted this year and wouldn't be able to focus and raise the Seeds as much as he wanted.

His brow started to sweat as he attempt to conjure up Seeds of doubt and suicide. It was difficult, but he remembered what he'd seen inside of Octavio. With that determination, he successfully planted a few in Ronald Weasley. The boy wouldn't start feeling the affects full blast; instead, he would have to struggle through as they grew inside him, slowly turning him. And Harry would be at a distance, talking sweetly to those Seedlings, urging them to grow.

"Yes, will you accept the _apology?_ " Weasley urged slowly, as if he were talking to an idiot. Blaise tensed behind him and Harry touched his back to the Slytherin's chest, silently telling him to stay quiet.

"I suppose I can," Harry replied scratchily. Three set of eyes looked at his bandaged throat. "And in return," Harry paused, feeling the strain in his larynx. "You want to know what happened inside that office; am I correct?"

Some of them looked guilty, the other looked happy, nodding. What _fools_ they were _._

"I'm afraid Harrison is having a slight strain tonight, Gryffindors. You'll have to keep your patience and ask him at a later date." Blaise placed his hands on Harry's shoulder, guiding him away. Harry didn't fight the pull. Instead he gave a mocking wave at the three of them. They stared after him.

A little red head oblivious to his fate.

"Not very nice…" Harry whispered, grinning. Blaise scoffed and continued to hold his shoulders.

"I see that you're almost in one piece." Dark eyes targeted his throat. "Was your father on his knees, thanking you like the pathetic scum he is?" Harry's lips thinned, flashing Blaise a dark look. His father _had_ been grateful. After he woke up, Voldemort absent, his father and mother had been beside his bed. Lucius was gracious and furious at the same time for Harry following after him. Having your son being butchered before your eyes would have a slight affect, even on the coldest father out there.

"He was very thankful." As thankful as Lucius Malfoy could be.

Blaise just gave a hum, leading him toward the Slytherin dorms. As they entered the open wall, Harry curiously looked at the occupants lounging in the sitting room. A few of the older years were studying near the fireplace, while others were herded together, talking lowly among themselves. Draco was among the ones discussing something. Silver and green locked eyes. Draco's gaze dropped to his throat, studying it briefly before giving him a tight nod.

"Looks like brother dearest is slowly catching up to his actual age." Blaise remarked, throwing Draco a raised eyebrow. "It's about bloody time."

Harry dismissed Draco, settling down on the black leather arm chair. Blaise sat into the one across from him, staring at him through thick lashes. "What?" Harry asked tiredly, picturing his bed waiting for him in the sixth year dorm. It wasn't until Blaise motioned to the dorm around him that Harry realized he was blocking out the majority of the student's emotions. The thick feeling of fright and uncertainty filled the air. "What happened?" Harry sat forward, his eyes dancing across the student's faces.

His brother was in a group, all of them quietly discussing a heated topic. "You were…absent for quite awhile." Blaise took out a _Prophet_ clipping from his cloak pocket. "Minister Fudge passed away." From Voldemort's bug.

Harry took an intake of breath, knowing what Blaise was getting at. "Rufus Scrimgeour was named the new Minister, wasn't he?" With Blaise's nod in conformation, Harry wondered why Voldemort hadn't said anything about his puppet, Thicknesse, loosing the position as Minister. Unless… "When was he named Minister?"

Blaise played with the piece of parchment, looking down at the waving form of Rufus Scrimgeour. "A few hours ago, actually."

So Voldemort hadn't known yet.

Eyes were on him. Turning slightly to the side, he saw most of the Slytherins looking at him. "They're afraid what Scrimgeour will do in office. He's just as hard headed for the light as Dumbledore is, if not worse." Harry looked back at the students, giving them a small frown.

"And why are they looking at me?"

Blaise shrugged; his eyes still on the clipping. "They know you and the Dark Lord are rather…close. I'm guessing they're going to start looking up to you. As the Dark Lord's successor." Harry turned away from the stares, unconsciously sending reassuring waves towards the students. Their shoulders seemed to lessen in stiffness. Blaise flashed him a humorless grin. "What do you reckon Scrimgeour will do in office?"

Rufus Scrimgeour was a hard headed Auror in his time. He was powerful, strict, and full of foolish ideas to strengthen the wizarding world. His one main goal, to lessen the influence of dark wizards. "He'll no doubt try to dispose of the power the dark wizards have over the pureblood world." Harry winced at the sore in his throat. He'd done too much talking today. "I'm sure the Dark Lord is thinking of something. There is no way we can predict what will happen with Scrimgeour."

At least not yet.

Blaise tucked the clipping back in his pocket, looking at Harry evenly. "You look like hell." Standing up, Harry was aware of the eyes once more.

"Good night, Blaise."

"Sweet dreams, Harrison."

Harry turned his heel and went up the dorm steps. His mind was reeling at the affects Scrimgeour would have on the wizarding world. Was Voldemort coming up with ways to eliminate the new Minister?

_ Crimson eyes were desperate, wild, and frantic. "No," his tone was full of pain. "No, please no." It was so pathetic and pitiable; Harry ripped his wrist out of the Dark Lord's frantic hand. Such betrayal… _

Harry stumbled, holding onto the wall. He could usually control a vision when it was coming. He must have been more tired then he originally thought. And what _was_ that? The raw feelings of pain, desperation, and betrayal were strong; Harry had an upset stomach. But there was nothing solid he could remember in that short vision. Only the Dark Lord's hand clutching at his wrist, trying to hold him back from walking away.

There was something off about… something….

Harry frowned, closing his eyes. His Seer wanted to tell him something, to warn him of an upcoming event. And Seeing Voldemort look so…pathetic made Harry's suspicions heighten. It was dangerous to trust a Dark Lord and once Voldemort broke that trust, it would be difficult to form that bond again.

What was it?

Was there something more to this _Cannius_ Ritual?

Hoping he'd receive more visions during his sleep, Harry went to bed, closing his mind to nothing but the ritual.

He slept dreamlessly.

** -SSC- **

Green eyes stared at the five empty spots at the Slytherin table. It was exactly a week ago today when Voldemort said he would be completing the ritual. And true to his word, the Significant Five was absent. It was Saturday today. It wasn't _unheard_ of to have students visit their parents over the weekend at times. Harry drummed his fingers on the table, unusually agitated. His Seer was hyperactive today, warning him that something was off.

And he knew it, without a doubt, that there was something wrong with the ritual.

But before he charged head first into the middle of the ritual, he needed to _know_ what was wrong.

Sitting in the Great Hall, his eyes swept across the hall at Ron Weasley. The boy was pushing his food around on his plate, dismissing his friend's worried quires about not eating. Harry saw the Seeds grow as small shrubs. It had been a week and Ronald Weasley's life was slowly ticking down. At the moment, Harry could care a less. He needed to _think_.

It all started with Voldemort telling him about the _Cannius_ Ritual. Sharing magic. It was completely suspicious. The Dark Lord didn't share magic, he took it. But… Draco and the others weren't powerful, so why would Voldemort even want to use _them_ for a ritual? But Harry had to remember there was a significance to all five of them. The five students were all children of loyal Death Eaters. And not just any children. But the firstborn.

Harry narrowed his eyes, staring unseeingly across from him. "You look pretty intense, Harrison." Blaise remarked. "Are you alright?"

"No," he whispered, his voice slowly coming back over the weeks time. "I'm not." He had a Dark Lord under handing him. Cheating and betraying him. He stood up abruptly, frightening a few students around him. The air around him cracked from his magic. "I need to leave, I'll see you later."

Turning out of the hall, he quickly made his way out of Hogwarts. Sirius Black had the tome he remembered over the summer. He had tried to look up what type of ritual the Dark Lord would use on the five of the children… but then Voldemort had told him what that ritual was and Harry had dropped his research. What a fool he'd been. Trusting the Dark Lord. He should have kept up with his research, looking for an alternative ritual he would use.

And Harry remembered a certain ritual that required a loyal sacrifice's first born child. It was a cousin to the _Cannius_ Ritual, but opposite in their affects. For the life of him, he couldn't remember much about it, but he had to go to the House of Black to find it.

Hopefully he'd get there before Voldemort started the ritual.

His father's words from a week ago rang in his head, warning him. He should have _seen_ it then.

" _Does it bother you…" Lucius hesitated, his silver eyes piercing Harry's own. "That you will not be able to share the magic with the Dark Lord? If you had the power to be the firstborn, would you want it?" He had looked so curious; Harry didn't really pay attention to the odd words. Sleep was overwhelming him._

" _Of course, not, father. Draco is the Malfoy Heir, it does not bother me."_

His father knew something. There was guilt in his eyes when he had asked Harry that. He remembered now.

Warnings. They were all warning him. All those signs…he had dismissed them, trusting the Dark Lord.

Harry sprinted off the grounds of Hogwarts, feeling something akin to fright curl in his stomach.


	19. Shine a Light Down on Me

** Chapter Nineteen: Shine a Light Down on Me **

"Harry?" Sirius dropped the dinner roll from his mouth as Harry stormed through the open door. "What are you dong here?"

"I need to find a book… a book on rituals used with firstborn children." Harry brushed passed his cousin and ran up the stairs where he knew where the library was. "Have you ever heard of a ritual using five children?" He was well aware of the man following behind him. Although Sirius was light, or attempting to be light, he was still a Black.

"Ah…" Sirius started, clearing his throat of the bread. "A few, you'd best use the _Loric_ tome. It deals with firstborn children." Harry summoned the tome to his open palm. It weighed down heavily, causing him to grab it with two hands. "Is this some sort of last minute essay you have to write about, kid? Because when I was your age-,"

"Sirius," Harry snapped, looking up at his cousin with a sigh of aggravation. "For once, you can drop your act. I won't judge." Looking away from the surprised face of the Black, Harry quickly paged through the crisp pages. "I need to find something for five firstborn children." Harry intoned. The book glowed, shuddering. With his magic, Harry compelled the book. "I also need to find something that will involve loyal sacrifices with a powerful conductor."

Letting the book go, the pages flipped themselves, listening to him.

"Maybe something that's related to the _Cannius_ Ritual; one where the five children are marked by the conductor at birth." Taking a deep breath, Harry looked up at the ceiling, feeling himself frown sadly. "Possibly one that drains the children's magic." His voice was soft, almost weak. A part of him hoped there would be no such ritual…a part of him hoped Voldemort would really trust him enough…

But as he looked down, the book was motionless, lying open to the ritual he had briefly remembered reading about.

The _Sadist_ Ritual.

It was a ritual where the conductor, Voldemort, would be in need of five loyal follower's children; the firstborns. To the children, after the ritual was complete, it would feel as if they were gaining magic, sharing it with the conductor. But in reality, the conductor would be slowly draining their magic until they were dead. It was a powerful ritual, one where many superstitious numbers and signs were scattered throughout the process:

Five children because there were five points in a runes star.

Children because they were pure.

Loyal followers because it would strengthen the bond and the amount of magic given to the conductor.

And firstborns because it was known that the first born had more power, the ideal heir.

Harry gave a loud groan, his head full of pain. Voldemort had _lied_. The man _knew_ how much family meant to him, how could the Dark Lord be so stupid? So cruel? What was he planning on doing with the five corpses of the children? How could he explain _that?_ Would he really risk all that emotional pain just to gain more power?

Yes. Tom Riddle was always known for being power hungry. Why should it shock him so?

In doing this ritual, not only would Voldemort gain more power, he would also loose his loyal followers. Lucius and the other parents would eventually put two and two together after they slowly realized their children all died with a loss of magic. Harry was sure Voldemort could come up with a way to cover it up well enough… but _really._ It was a surprise that the parents really trusted the Dark Lord this much. To allow the man to hold their children's life in his palm. But Harry had to be reasonable. It was their _Lord._ They would follow the Dark Lord anywhere. They would never question.

"What's wrong?" Sirius asked; his tone serious for once. His eyebrows frowned, dark eyes searching Harry.

"Lord Voldemort is going to do the _Sadist_ Ritual on my brother and four others." Harry replied truthfully, tiredly. He stood up, intending to make his way to the Malfoy Manor. If they were to do it somewhere, it would be the Malfoy home. It had multiple of side chambers and dungeons.

Just as he was heading down the stairs, he heard Sirius give a dry snort in amusement. Harry whirled around, narrowing his eyes on his cousin. "Did you just _laugh_?"

"Sorry," Sirius grinned. "But how is he going to complete that? After all, Draco isn't even the firstborn."

Harry froze. "What?" Icy green eyes narrowed into slits. "What did you just _say_?"

Sirius frowned, looking uncertain. He hesitated, licking his lips, avoiding Harry's eyes. "I…the Black Tapestry shows that you were born first, Harry. I thought you knew."

Time seemed to stop for him. His hand clutched the railing, his mind racing. _He_ was the firstborn. _He_ was supposed to be the Malfoy Heir. Why had Lucius lied? Why had his father dismissed every pureblood law and ritual and pick the second child over the first?

Harry leaned forward, his face contorted in pain.

His father really had been ashamed of him. Having a dark haired and small framed Heir to the Malfoy family was _unheard_ of. Of course. Why hadn't Harry realized that sooner? His father would be reluctant of having someone like Harry as his heir. After all, Draco looked just like Lucius, just like a Malfoy should. Tears sprang unwantingly to Harry's eyes as he brushed them away angrily.

Here he thought he and his father were slowly accepting one another again. But this betrayal from him was…another hitch, another setback. Granted, Harry wasn't hardcore and set on the pureblood ways, but he knew being heir to a family was important. They received everything in the pureblood name, even having their own chair in the political world. And to keep it _secret_ this whole time. Even his own _mother._

He felt ill.

Even if Lucius had made a dim-witted last minute decision in giving the Dark Lord Draco, he could have redeemed himself. To both the Dark Lord and Harry. But this secret was still going strong. And in doing so, Lucius had destroyed Harry again and unknowingly, he may be destroying the Dark Lord _and_ Draco.

But the Dark Lord wasn't off Harry's radar. The man had a mind frame to kill his brother and to lie about it. He had looked Harry directly in the eye and _lied_ about killing his family.

Harry bit his lower lip, turning his heel and running out the Black house. No matter what they had all done, Draco didn't deserve this. And Harry didn't either.

He still had to stop this.

** -SSC- **

Lucius took a deep breath, trying to remain composed as he watched Draco enter the chamber with the four other children and the Dark Lord. He had been relying on another year before everything came down to the final ritual, but the Dark Lord had wanted to do it early. All the children were 'magically' mature, just not of age. It wouldn't make a difference to the ritual, the Dark Lord said.

Lucius had been too cowardly to admit to the Dark Lord that Draco was not the firstborn child. But he hoped and believed that making Draco his legal heir, that the ritual would recognize Draco as the ideal and 'firstborn' child. With twins, it shouldn't matter if one was seconds earlier or seconds later; as long as one of them was acknowledged as the family Heir.

With his logical mind frame, Lucius reassured himself.

Sixty seven seconds.

Harrison was sixty seven seconds older. Barely a minute.

Lucius had done some research on rituals. And his conclusion on naming Draco his legal heir had been mentioned as an exception. As were twins. He didn't dare ask the Dark Lord if this particular ritual followed those exceptions. Narcissa had even disproved of his logic. For sixteen years she had quietly spoken her mind, warning him to tell the truth. But Lucius Malfoy did not make mistakes.

He had even asked Harrison- if there was a way for him to complete the ritual instead of Draco, would he desire it?

Sixty seven seconds….

And his oldest son had declined.

It should all be taken care of. Harrison was a powerful wizard in his own right and had the Seer ability. To make things fair, he figured he should keep Draco as the Malfoy Heir. Harrison had many things going for him, Draco needed something to occupy his time and energy toward. Working for the family would suit his son perfectly. Still, he couldn't help but to feel a slight agitation in the pit of his stomach.

"Will this work?" Goyle Senior muttered to Crabbe. Lucius pursed his lips, looking straight ahead of himself. Ignoring the Death Eater's around him, he breathed evenly through his nose. Pale fingers curled themselves over his lap, not one tremor.

"And why do you doubt it, Goyle?" Parkinson growled. "Do you doubt our Lord?" His heavy upper lip curled, baring his teeth. Goyle grunted, shaking his head furiously in denial to the claim. "Fool," Parkinson hissed, trying to imitate the Dark Lord's own menacing tone.

Sixty seven seconds….

Surely that didn't affect it.

"What the _hell?_ " Nott exclaimed loudly, hoarsely. Lucius stiffened, standing up as he saw the ice slowly start to crack and cover the corridor floor. His breath became visible and his body shuddered when he felt raw magic coming down the stairs.

And within seconds, a form came gliding fluidly across the corridor floor.

Lucius had to blink back the haze around his vision with the power that came suddenly thickened in the atmosphere. When he cleared his vision, his eyes widened.

Harrison all but floated. His small frame was dressed in nothing but his school robes, but the short cloak seemed to blend into the shadows, never ending and cloaking him in darkness- blackness. Those eerie green eyes blazed, showing nothing but power and immortality.

Lucius quickly pushed his back against the cold wall, not believing what he was seeing. He knew his son was powerful in his own right, but not like _this._ It was like seeing the Dark Lord unraveling in his younger days; it was like seeing a threat or danger. A threat Lucius knew better than to fight against and bend his own pride to. A threat he knew he could join for his own personal gains.

And it was his _son._

Across from him, Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott fell to their knees, overwhelmed with such a power that wasn't coming from their Lord. Parkinson, a little more proud, leaned against the wall and outright stared in surprise at Harrison.

The small young man paid them no heed; his eyes were only for the closed door across from him. His full lips were set in a frown, a minor flaw to that priceless beauty.

No one tried to stop Harrison.

Lucius wouldn't.

He had just seen his son in a whole new light.

** -SSC- **

Harrison allowed his magic to spin out of control, licking the walls and floor around him. He could feel the others in the corridor, but they were nothing to him at the moment. His bigger threat came from the other side of the door.

With his magic, he chipped away Voldemort's own magic on the door and slammed it open.

Immediately, screams met his ears.

It took him only a small hesitation to take everything in.

A rune star was painted precisely on the stone ground. On each point, one of the children stood stiffly. In the middle of the five point star, Voldemort took his position. But it wasn't all it seemed to be. Draco was collapsed on the ground, his eyes bulging from their sockets. His pale arms were bare, showing the ugly red skin. The smell of burning flesh stung his nose and the strong scent of blood filled the air.

Draco trembled severely, screaming, unable to move or put a pause on the proceedings. His fingers were curled in claws, trying to gouge the floor in an attempt to ease the pain. The other four children stood shell-shocked, frightened.

But Harry knew they weren't as frightened of Draco as they were with the Dark Lord.

Tom Riddle trembled in a similar fashion; only, it didn't seem as if his skin were burning. The affects on him seemed less, only enough to cause a conceited Dark Lord to fall and shake vulnerably on the floor.

Looking at his brother, Harry saw those watery grey eyes stare at him pleadingly. His brother, so proud and naïve… and he remembered what Fate had in store for Draco. His brother was meant to die young. No matter how many times Harry saved him, Draco would still encounter death time after time.

"Get the hell out of the star, you idiots!" Harry yelled at the four children. They were still _standing_ there. So foolish.

Crimson eyes watched him from inside the star's pentagram. The man's bony shoulders rolled as he got on his hands and knees. It looked almost if he were trying to push himself to stand in front of Harry.

But Harry never spared him a glance. He observed as the children all ran out of the star, their eyes almost as wide as Draco's. Behind him, the Death Eater's came in, muttering amongst themselves at the scene. Lucius, in particular, was silent- but his actions spoke for himself. The self-righteous Malfoy ran over to his son, his face full of worry. Harry was sure that was the most expression Lucius had ever shone in public.

"No," Harry spoke softly but with magic. It seemed to halt everyone's proceedings. Eyes turned to him. "You will not touch him." Harry advised with a side glance to his father. Lucius thinned his lips, his expression cold and unreadable once again.

Harry studied the rune star, unable to understand why Draco and Voldemort were still being affected without all five of the children inside the rune. The ritual must have been completed, although wrong, it was in affect and nothing could stop Draco and Voldemort's death.

Green eyes locked with crimson.

Voldemort closed his eyes, his lips twisted into a pained grimace.

Harry looked away in disgust and stared at Goyle's bare ankle.

The small green serpent on his ankle grinned back at him.

Harry grinned in return.

Goyle swallowed, his face twisted in confusion as Harry advanced. "I apologize in advance, Goyle." With his magic, he surrounded it around Goyle's thick ankle, staring the boy in the eyes. "This may hurt just a bit." Goyle cocked his head to the side, his mouth slack with uncertainty.

"What-,"

Eyes widened. And then Goyle tipped back his neck, screaming. He fell on his arse as his ankle was sliced cleanly through. The bloody foot rolled away from him and crimson liquid seeped on the cement floor. With the dismembered foot, the air seemed to stop buzzing and the screams from Draco died down into an eerie silence.

Harry glanced nonchalantly at the cut off foot, the serpent on the torn ankle- gone. The ritual was no longer.

The only sound in the room came from Goyle's small, muffled screams, and Draco and Voldemort's heavy breathing.

"My _Lord_ ," Lucius murmured in disbelief, his face pale.

Harry stood off to the side, watching the events unfold in the shadows. His father glanced at Draco's prone form, uncertain what his first move should be. The others stood far from the rune star, too shocked and confused to make a move.

Strands of black hair fell in the Dark Lord's flushed face as he struggled to his feet. His crimson eyes were boring into Lucius, full of fury. "Do you mind, Lucius," everyone, with the exception of Harry, flinched and cowered at the tone. "Telling me the minor detail you left out sixteen years ago?"

Lucius' shoulders slumped. Harry's lip curled as he watched his father fall pathetically to the floor in front of the Dark Lord. "I'm sorry, my Lord, I'm sorry. I apologize…" Lucius placed his forehead to the floor. It was pathetic. Harry glanced away, gathering himself, and looked back at the scene. He would remain hidden for now. Now, now Lucius had to understand and accept the mistake he had made.

" _Tell me!"_ Voldemort yelled, his fingers twitching near his wand pocket.

"Harrison is the firstborn, My Lord." The other Death Eaters were on their own knees, Goyle receiving a numbing spell from his father. His sniffs were the only sound throughout the chamber. Harry could sense the Death Eater's shock and disgust toward his father.

After all, Lucius Malfoy, the right hand man to Lord Voldemort, had betrayed.

"I thought… I would give you the healthy child." Harry's jaw clenched, his own emotions becoming too hard to control. "They were twins, My Lord. Please, you must understand where I come from."

" _Crucio,"_

Lucius twitched on the floor, screaming. Harry reared his head back, breathing harshly through his nostrils. Lucius deserved this. And if Voldemort weren't weak, Harry was sure the _Crucio_ spell would have instantly snapped his father's mind. He could feel the rage from Voldemort. It was thick, almost as thick as Harry's own.

"I think that is enough." Harry intoned softly, stepping from the shadows. His father's body twitched as Voldemort readily lifted the curse, his crimson eyes landing on his form.

The two wizards stood across from one another, staring each other down. While Voldemort was still breathing heavily, face flushed, Harry's own face was seemingly carved from marble. "He deserves _death._ " Voldemort spat, eyes narrowing. "You think you have a hand in controlling my followers?" Lucius gave a whimper, his watery eyes staring between the two wizards above him. It seemed to cost him a lot of his strength to stay coherent.

Pursing his lips, Harry lifted his chin, eyes glowing in rage. _"Oh, Tom…"_ Harry hissed in Parseltongue. _"You…my Match…"_ Harry paused, too angry to form the correct words. _"You think I am stupid? You think me an idiot? I know exactly what you were doing before I stepped foot in this room. Be glad I won't tell your Death Eater's the truth. In return, you will refrain from touching Lucius._ "

Voldemort's jaw clenched; his crimson eyes almost orange… his face showed _nothing._

" _The_ Cannius _Ritual, you said."_ Harry started again. _"I asked you for the truth and you give me nothing but lies!"_

" _This is not your place."_ Voldemort hissed back, his face wet with sweat. _"It is not your place to belittle me and tell me what to do. I am the dominant, I am the Dark Lord. You are nothing but a child!"_

" _Is that really what you think, Tom?"_ Harry took an advancing step forward. _"I think you are just grasping at air, trying to get a hold on yourself for screwing up so royally. You knew you were doing the wrong, you knew every day after I inquired about the ritual. You_ knew _I wouldn't like it, yet you go through it anyway."_ Breathing heavily, Harry grimaced. Voldemort still had no emotion on his face, nothing but a small smirk. _"You think this isn't my place, Tom? You were going to drain my brother to death."_

Shaking his head, Harry grinned back at that damned smirk. _"If you knew I had been the firstborn, would you have gone through it anyway?"_

Voldemort waved his wand in the air, glaring. _"You know the answer to that, child."_

" _Do I?"_ Harry took a step backward this time, intent to turn and run. He couldn't handle all this now.

" _This is war, Harrison. I did what I knew would be best. If it meant sacrificing five children to gain more power, so be it. Just because you are my Match, it does not mean I have to satisfy you in every way. I did no harm to_ you _, nothing."_

"I hope, beyond hope, that you will realize the wrong of those words. I hope, Tom, that someday, you will realize the extent to this betrayal to me. _Until the time you realize you need me in more ways then sex, I will be building my own. But please know, I will never forget this. Forget this betrayal."_

Voldemort hissed at him, his teeth bared. Magic grew dense around him, making it difficult to breathe and stand so upright. Turning around, Harry snapped his fingers, a house elf bowing low at the waist. "Clean this mess up, Dobby. Take care of Master Draco Malfoy."

"Yes Masters Malfoy." The house elf sauntered over to Draco.

"You think to walk away?" Voldemort leered, a twisted smile on his face as Harry turned his back.

" _You better pray to Merlin, Tom."_ Harry laughed deliriously, glancing over his shoulder. _"You've better get on your knees and bend that conceited neck of yours and pray that my brother lives past your mistake. Because if he dies because of you, be sure that I will never stand anywhere near you in this war."_

And Harry all but jogged from the room, ignoring Voldemort's angry outburst.

** -SSC- **

The gold in his hand reflected off his lone candle beside his bedside. A wet trail on his cheek glimmered in the light of the flame, drawing attention to the sharp conjunction of his cheek.

Harry wiped it away angrily, staring at the Horcrux dangling in his fingers.

Betrayal. It was such a strong emotion. An emotion Harry had overlooked and underestimated many times.

The locket swung back and forth, the first time in ages since it wasn't around his neck. Tom Riddle's soul warmed his fingers, looping and licking at the skin on his palm. Harry frowned, his eyes not really seeing anything as he stared at the glittering emeralds.

Tom Riddle. He knew the boy had a screwed up childhood. He knew Tom Riddle was inbred tightly with Salazar Slytherin's line and perhaps many generations of interbreeding and incest between the Guants. It must have been a part of why the Dark Lord was so chemically unbalanced, so cold and emotionless. Of course, incest and interbreeding weren't all of it. There were seven…eight Horcruxes. His soul was split so heavily…

Perhaps that was why it was so hard for Harry to read him, despite his Seer status.

Tom Riddle was bred for power, insaneness. Overtime, Riddle found the Dark Arts and dived headfirst in the dark magic he was born for… and then drowned in the lust of that power. When the man experienced the feel of _power_ , he wanted more. And with a weakness of mortality, Voldemort strived for immortality. In doing so, he drove himself into a cold shell of a human.

The man had been that way for over sixty years.

And then Harry had arrived.

In Voldemort's eyes, it must have been…revolting to realize he actually had an _equal._ And with the notion of being the most powerful wizard in centuries, Voldemort easily deduced that Harry couldn't possibly be as strong as him, despite the fact they were Matches.

But Voldemort hadn't planned on Harry having his own mind. Harry had more than enough sureness that Voldemort had planned to chain Harry as a little Death Eater, a follower, perhaps a right hand man. Except Harry wanted to stand on equal footing, causing Voldemort's mind track to become haywire.

Harry had to put himself in Voldemort's shoes. It must be difficult for the Dark Lord to treat someone with equality after sixty some years of living in solitude. Without emotions. And to be Matches with a Seer, who specialized in emotions at that. They were opposites, both struggling for the higher footing. Merlin knew they were good for each other. It would never be boring and he could always string Voldemort along on his toes…. But…

Harry knew, without a doubt, there would always be that trust issue between them. And there would always be that struggle for Voldemort to treat Harry respectively.

The question was; did Harry really want to experience _this_ time and time again?

"No," he whispered to the Horcrux. "I can't."

A malicious grin spread across Harry's lips as he carefully placed the locket in a jewelry box.

He had plans for both the locket and Longbottom.

And it would make both him and Voldemort happy.

They both would win.

Voldemort would get his Horcrux.

Harry would get his freedom...and revenge.


	20. We're All a Little Insane

** Chapter Twenty: We're All a Little Insane **

He had nothing. He _was_ nothing. So pathetic and full of waste.

Shaking fingers rubbed his face, staining the pale skin with red from the harsh treatment. Washed out blue eyes stared at himself in the mirror, grimacing at how ugly he was. There was nothing in his reflection he was proud of. _Nothing_. Stark red hair clashed horribly with his pasty white skin. There was nothing attractive that he could see. No witch would find him suitable.

That's why Neville always got the quires about dating. He got all the fame, the glory, the attention.

And what did Ron get? Nothing.

_ Nothing. _

He was nothing. Why should he get anything? He was drowning in the shadows of both his school mates and family. His older brothers were all successful and had their own thing going for them. Ronald was hardly a notice to his family, especially with Ginny around. She got all the attention. If it wasn't her, then the twins. If it wasn't the twins, it was Bill and Charlie. And then Percy.

_ And then him. _

_ Last. _

Ron clutched his hair, pulling at it in self-disgust. He was a fool for even thinking things would change. When he was younger, he had been sure things _would_ change. But they only got worse. He had been stupid to continue on like this.

At school, things weren't any better. Malfoy taunted him because of his lack of money. And what did Ron have to say in defense of that? His robes were hardly anything in comparison to the other students, especially the _real_ purebloods of the wizarding world. Not only were his robes an issue, but being _friends_ with the boy-who-lived was driving him insane. Neville tried to act modest, but Ron could see how big his ego was. Neville craved every moment of his fame.

Ron was sick.

And _Hermione._ All he wanted was to be on good terms with her, to have her _see_ him. But he was invisible. Completely _invisible_. She always seemed to be scolding him like a mother. And if those long stares at Neville were anything to go by, Ron was sure Neville and Hermione had something going on.

Leaving him as a third wheel.

He was nothing. He was invisible.

He wouldn't have it.

He couldn't.

Ron started breathing heavily as he took the pocket knife and held it up to his eyes. " _You're nothing,"_ a voice whispered in his head.

"I'm nothing." Ron mumbled heatedly at himself.

Blue eyes glared into the reflection of the knife before dropping it at his wrists.

A hiss sounded through the bathroom.

And a green eyed wizard rolled in his sleep, a smile on his face.

** -SSC- **

"Harrison?"

He blinked, a small smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. Green eyes stared forward. "Yes, Blaise?"

"You're not eating. Again."

"I would think it's because I'm not hungry. Again." Harry sighed, looking down at his plate and then back at the Gryffindor table. "Don't you think this is such a…wonderful day?" Glancing over at the black wizard, Harry witnessed the boy's raised eyebrows.

"And why is that, Harrison?"

"My brother is back." His eyes swept across the Slytherin table at Draco. It had been a good few weeks since the ritual had taken place. Harry had slumped into somewhat of a depression, only going through his classes in a dull sort of matter. He had turned his Prefect badge into Dumbledore, declining the position. Without his Prefect duties, he had more time to throw himself into studying, making himself smarter- more powerful and wiser.

After the ritual, he had driven himself into exhaustion, trying to cast and perform the dark magic he had always struggled with. He had felt imperfect. He had felt used and rejected. His father hadn't wanted him as the Malfoy Heir and the Dark Lord didn't _see_ him.

It was ok though.

Everything was fine. Now.

Over his slump, he realized he didn't want to be in the spotlight. The shadows were his home, something he took comfort in. If he were Malfoy Heir or the Dark Lord's acknowledged equal, he would be out in the open, vulnerable to rejection and betrayal. In the shadows, he could be powerfully strong and self-sufficient. He was strong enough to rely on only _himself._

Studying Draco, his eyes traced over the red and ugly scars on the boy's pale hands and neck. It looked like patches of burns. Harry knew, without a doubt, that underneath the school robes, those burns extended extensively. Draco would be scared for life. Not even magic could hide those ritual scars. Harry stared at the Malfoy rings that flashed on Draco's fingers. A subtle frown graced his lips and he looked away before Draco could sense his stare.

His brother had just gotten back that morning. It had taken a long few weeks to recover. In that grace period, Harry had been contacted by both Lucius and Narcissa numerous times. Both of them had desperately tried to get in touch with him.

Harry never owled them back. He ignored every little plea, every apology…

"I don't see how you can be so _happy_ about that. You're so happy that you can't even eat?" Blaise questioned, waving a careless hand to Harry's full and untouched plate. "Damn it, Harrison. You look like hell. You've lost too much weight."

"Really?" Harry muttered dryly. "I haven't noticed." He had. He had to spell his clothes in order to fit his new and adjusting frame.

"You don't realize that not everyone is like your father and the Dark Lord." Blaise spoke softly from the side of his mouth. "You should have _known_ the Dark Lord would do something like that. He's the bloody _Dark_ Lord. And your father is a dumbshit."

Harry tisked, grinning. "Language."

"He is." Blaise sniffed, looking through his lashes at the Slytherins. "When will you realize that you are your own person? You can stand alone. You don't need a father and Dark Lord at your side. The Slytherin's are all frightened and unsure what to do with you. Stop moping and put your chin up."

"I know that, Blaise. I'm over my gloom about the ritual. And I realize now that I should never rely on others…" His fingers caressed the cold silverware, looking up at the enchanted ceiling. "I just haven't been very hungry." He suspected it had to do with the strain on his magic. No matter, it was only a minor disadvantage to expanding his knowledge and strength.

Goyle stood up, his hand clutching a cane. Harry watched him with unhidden interest. The boy had a magical foot in replace of the one Harry had cut off during the ritual. Goyle appeared to be unsteady still, not used to the new and alien appendage.

The boy glanced in his direction and then away quickly. Harry dismissed it with an internal shrug. Ever since the ritual, the four children in the ritual always dropped their gazes to him. It was out of fear and submission. Harry supposed it had to do with them witnessing his magic and act of standing up against the Dark Lord. "Look at _that_ ," Blaise snickered. "They're all uncertain about how to act around you. You can play on that, you know, court others to your side."

"You didn't even notice the absence of three key players to my game, Blaise." Harry threw him a pout, changing the subject. "I've been working _so_ hard on them this past month. And you don't even notice."

From the corner of his eye, he watched Blaise look over at the Gryffindor table. "The Golden Trio is absent." White teeth flashed and Blaise leaned in close, his lips caressing Harry's ear. "Is that your doing, my sweet?"

Harry wasn't affected by the drop of tone, nor the arousal coming from Blaise. He had no interest in Zabini like that. "What would you say if you knew Ronald Weasley has left us?" Blaise pulled back slightly, a quizzical look on his face. "You know how depressed he looked the past month." Harry tisked, eyes eerily lightening. "I heard he killed himself."

He lied.

He didn't 'hear' about it. No. He watched it happen. At least, his visions allowed him to See and observe Ronald Weasley as the boy snuck out late at night at slit his wrists. By the time Longbottom found him in the morning, the red head had lost too much blood.

And so….

His plan to destroy the Golden Trio and Dumbledore was now set into motion.

Along with a few side plots.

Side plots that would show both his father and the Dark Lord how upset he truly was.

** -SSC- **

Sneering, he flicked the lint off his robes. Honestly. The little bugger didn't want to get _off_ his robes. Hissing, Harrison narrowed his eyes at the stubborn stain, or flint, whatever it was- it was infuriating.

His finger poked at the lint, searing it with his magic. Smoke rose, and the smell of burning silk and cotton met his nose. Removing his finger, he eyed the hole in his robes. Shrugging, he continued on his way. At least it was gone. Such little things, imperfect things, had started to get on his nerves lately. He wanted everything _perfect_. Self, his inner Seer, and he had a talk this morning about his change in character.

Things had altered his perspective, his character, ever since the ritual. He felt his nature become darker, more nonchalant and analytical. And he _grew_ up. People and their emotions didn't affect him as much as it used to. Now when he felt someone's anger or sadness, he doubled it without a thought. They had nothing to be angry about. Their lives were so… fragile. And it made him realize just how powerful he was. He could make or break them.

Just as he had done Ronald Weasley.

A grin stretched his lips. Ah, it was his first kill. And oddly enough, he was proud of himself. Around him, people gave him odd looks. He refused to acknowledge them. They weren't worth his time. "Harrison," a voice stopped him in his path. Looking over his shoulder, he saw his brother stride toward him.

"Draco," he rolled the name off his tongue. It was foreign to him to actually address his brother. "Is there something you wanted? I was on my way to Professor Zabini's offices to discuss an important matter."

Draco came up beside him. His burns were noticeable this close and Harry passed them over with a slight interest. His brother was known to be awfully vain. But ever since his twin had come back, Draco hadn't seemed as if his ugly marks were anything to be ashamed of. It shocked him how grown up Draco seemed to be now. He supposed the ritual affected more than just him.

"I'd like to speak to you, alone." Grey eyes, so alike Lucius', glanced around at the observant students. "Privately and away from ears."

Harry raised an eyebrow as he turned his shoulder to Draco and led them to an abandoned classroom. "Classy," Draco drawled at the dust. As long as it didn't get on him, Harry was fine with the dust covering the floor and abandoned desks.

Clearing a desk wandlessly, Harry sat on top, blinking calmly back at his brother. "What did you want?" He asked impatiently as the blonde looked around in disgust.

Draco stayed silent for a long while. Harry saw his hesitance and he watched as courage flickered and attempted to take over Draco's mind frame. "I'd like to…" he took a deep breath. Through half lidded eyes, Harry smirked as he watched his twin stutter for words. "I'd like to formally thank you, for saving my life, not only once but twice." Draco looked up at him, meeting his eyes in sincerity.

Harry stayed silent. Waiting for the rest he knew Draco wanted to say.

"Father told me what happened during the ritual. He told me that you came in and saved both the Dark Lord and I."

Harry made a sound in his throat. "No, I only saved you. I could care-a-less about the Dark Lord's life." And truly, he did only save Draco. He knew if Voldemort would die, he would come back anyway with a damned Horcrux.

Draco seemed unsure what to make of the degrading remark against the Dark Lord. He decided to ignore it. "Father also told me that you are the true firstborn." Harry leaned back slightly, looking at the ceiling. He didn't want to go there with Draco. But, he supposed, he had to get this conversation over with.

"Don't worry your little Heir arse off, Draco. I don't want to, and I don't have _any_ desire, to claim my rightful place as the Malfoy Heir." He made a show of looking at his fingernails. "In fact, I disinherited myself from the Malfoy name. I've washed myself of Lucius' claim."

Grey eyes widened almost comically. "You…you did?"

Harry smirked. No, he didn't. Not yet. But when he did, he was going to make _sure_ it was permanent. "I got the idea from Lucius, actually. When he disinherited me in the beginning of this summer, I kind of liked it." Cocking his head to the side, he stared at his twin. "You will never have any _family_ competition, Draco." Family was the keyword. Draco of course would always be lower than Harry in everything but Malfoy name.

Draco seemed to understand his underlying message and bowed his head. "Weasley's dead."

"I haven't noticed," Harry drawled. Whomever didn't was a complete idiot. The Golden Trio was no more. There was a bloodshot looking Granger with a droopy boy-who-lived by her side. They had buried the body of Ronald Weasley two days after the suicide.

It was so morbid…

A sadistic part of him enjoyed it. After all Ronald Weasley had done to him. One should _never_ make an enemy out of a Seer.

"The Slytherins are all curious about you. The Dark Lord is completely obsessed with you… and I felt your power that day of the ritual." Draco sounded awed and Harry could clearly see it with his Seer powers. "You're powerful. And you're hiding it."

"Don't sound so confused, Draco." Harry whispered passionately. "The power of underestimating your enemy is complete bliss. Especially when you can truly show them the extent to your magic when it comes down to it." Green eyes looked at his brother.

" _You_ are obsessed with the Dark Lord." Harry stated. He didn't know why he brought it up, but if came past his lips anyway. Perhaps it was because of Draco's remark about the Dark Lord being obsessed with him. Harry didn't _want_ the man to be obsessed with him. It was a dangerous game to be playing. So he drew his worries over the issue around, pin pointing Draco's own obsession. His brother didn't know Voldemort's true intention with the ritual. It wasn't a surprise that Draco found the Dark Lord absolutely fascinating. "You can't deny that. You lust over him and his power. He's a very beautiful man, isn't he?" He prodded Draco, seeing the embarrassment and jealousy in his brother.

"Yes," Draco lifted his chin, finding the courage and latching on to it. "I've come to the conclusion that the two of you are a lot of like." He changed the subject. Draco stepped closer to Harry. "And that you have something up your sleeve for everyone who ever did you wrong; those visits to Dumbledore almost daily… and your distance from father and the Dark Lord…and the Golden Trio. You're doing something."

"Hence the reasoning why your thanking me for saving your life." A smirk twisted Harry's mouth. "You're saving your own hide by getting on my good side."

Draco looked truly like Lucius as he raised his eyebrows in a mocking gesture. "Isn't that what Slytherin's do? What Malfoy's are known for?" Silence spread across them. "I've realized a few things during bed rest. I've come to realize that you're a force to be reckoned with, despite your fragile physical appearance. And that you have some sort of hold over the Dark Lord." Draco stepped closer, his body coming in between Harry's legs.

The blonde breathed, his burns looking oddly mystical in the dark. Mercury eyes glittered at Harry, intense, almost obsessively. "The Dark Lord came to my bedside a few days into my recover. He _apologized_ over what happened to me. And he talked about _you._ All about you. He wants me to keep a close eye on you. To see any slips, any sort of depression or crazy behavior, and report it back to him."

"And what have you been reporting to him?" Harry murmured.

Draco smirked. "You've lost a lot of weight. You've been visiting Dumbledore a lot. Blaise Zabini and you have been awfully close… and you've been rather _crabby_ towards students and everyone in general. And that fact that your magic is growing everyday…" Green eyes flashed. But Draco wasn't finished. "Among other things, really. But _I_ haven't told him anything. He has countless of other students watching you. They've probably already reported that and much more to him."

"And why haven't _you_?"

The blonde inched closer, his face dangerously close to Harry's. "Because I'm not stupid. I know something happened during that ritual _more_ than the fact you were the firstborn. The Dark Lord isn't known for his leniency. He didn't _touch_ Lucius after that day and he apologized to me over something he supposedly had no power over." Draco scoffed, blowing minty breath into Harry's face. "There's something underhanded going on between the two of you. And you stopped it from happening. Father said you were _furious_ at the Dark Lord."

Harry was surprisingly taken aback at how mature and smart Draco became. Gone was the snobby child. "All I know is that you aren't the Dark Lord's lackey, like all of us are." Bitter. "You're something more. You're power walking with something up your sleeve. That's dangerous… and because I'm a Slytherin and your brother, I'm offering my services for whatever you have planned."

Slytherin colors clashed as they stared at one another. "You know I can't trust you with my plans. Blaise doesn't even know. Bloody hell, I don't even think about it myself."

Draco leaned backward, his body still close to his brother's. "You don't need to tell me what you're planning. But if you need anyone to help you out with a project, I hope you know you can turn to someone other than Zabini."

"I'll keep that in mind, Draco."

And Draco did something Harry would have never thought he would do.

He bowed at the waist, a respectful bow. It was a bow a lower wizard would give to a higher society wizard.

"With that being said," Draco stepped away from Harry, straightening up. "Mother desperately wants to talk to you. As does father. They miss you."

Harry jumped off the table and made his way toward the door. "I'm afraid that won't be happening anytime soon."

"Mother had nothing to do with it, Harrison." Harry paused near the door. "She's doesn't look good, she misses you. She wants you to attend the Christmas Ball." Egh. More stuck up pureblood parties. "Just think about it before you give me an answer."

Draco brushed passed Harry and out the door.

Perhaps just for her….

** -SSC- **

"He was my first ever pupil." Pythia commented. "And he twisted my teachings into something much bigger than they were meant to be."

"That's why Octavio is after you so much." Harry played with his teacup, frowning at the black porcelain. He had just learned that Robert Farring had been the Seer who had destroyed Octavio's life as a child. And Robert Farring also happened to be Pythia's first pupil, student.

Pythia didn't seem very fazed when Harry told her how dedicated and lustful Octavio was with going after her. She probably knew as much. "He's always been hunting me and my students. But I knew, deep down, that his insane antics were driven by Robert's Seer influence."

"I call them Seeds," Harry replied innocently.

"Seeds?" Pythia gave a serpent-like grin over her cup. "Like the Seeds you planted in Ronald Weasley?"

"Was it really that obvious?"

"You were watching him for a while, Harrison. Of course it was obvious." She reprimanded him. "But it was very brilliant work. Nicely done." Her vivid blue eyes sparkled. "I don't think I could have done it better myself."

Harry dipped his head in gratitude. "Thank you, Mistress." He didn't call Pythia 'Mistress' much. But he was flattered by her compliments. She rarely gave out compliments for his work and when she did, it was worth being degraded by calling someone his master. "I do have a question about Seeing one's death." He started hesitantly. Pythia, the cold beauty, cocked her head to the side, showing him she was listening. "Have you ever Seen your death?"

Pythia placed her teacup down, staring intensely at Harry. "I never see my death, Harrison. A Seer never Sees their own death, only others."

He remembered clearly the way Octavio had sliced Pythia's neck with a claw. His stomach tied in knots. "But the deaths you See, they don't necessarily come true..."

Zabini gave a tisk, clicking her tongue against her teeth. "We've already discussed this, Harrison. Remember you asked about your brother? He was destined to die, thus, Fate will keep trying, despite how many times you try to save him."

Harry bit his lip, showing vulnerability. "Have you Seen my death?"

Pythia's eyes grew in amusement. "Yes, I have."

Harry frowned. "Is it really that funny?"

"Oh, not really." Blue eyes seemed to harden. "Everyone dies, Harrison." She leaned forward, reaching out delicate fingers to run gently down Harry's cheek. "What has brought this on?" Her frown grew. "Have you Seen your mother's death?"

Harry winced. "No, why do you ask?"

Pythia sat back in her seat. "Simply because you hold a deep emotional bond with her. I would assume you would get distressed like this over Seeing her death." Her lips lifted. "You've Seen mine, haven't you?"

Guilt and sorrow swept through him. "You-,"

Pythia shot forward, her finger closing in on Harry's lips. Her eyes were oddly light and a cat-like smile graced her features. "Death is the next great adventure, Harrison. Don't spoil it for me, please?"

Harry could only sit there, thinking on her words.

Merlin. He wished she could have a talk with the Dark Lord on death.

** -SSC- **

"Harrison?" Blaise leaned over the table they were studying at, his dark eyes narrowed. "Are you-,"

"Hush," Harrison held up his finger to his lips, eyes going distant. A painful thud in his head made him aware of a vision coming. It felt equivalent to an icy web wrapped around his brain, tugging on his mind. Goose bumps rose on his neck and his hair stood on end.

And using the training Pythia put him through, Harry sunk in his vision, keeping a consciousness on his outside body in the meantime.

_ Ahead of him, there were naked bodies, all full of muscles and shudders of excitement. "Kill him," they cheered, almost sounding like they were howling animalistically. Harry's mouth twitched upward as he identified who they were. They were werewolves, of course. Their bodies were racked with hard muscle and hair, leaving no room for modesty as their manhood's hung free. _

_ One, in particular, stood out among the rest. He was a figure of power, pure supremacy. His body was taller than the other's, but his muscles weren't necessarily bigger than any of the other males. Perhaps the same, but he looked far lither. But it was a lithe that Harry knew was dangerous, a lithe that carried such strength and quickness. The werewolf, Harry knew, would probably be an imposing figure and an exceptional fighter. His shoulders were held with authority and a demand for respect. _

_ Messy black hair was highlighted with startling silver and tied to the nape of his neck in a leather thong. _

_ The werewolf approached the crowd in a dangerous swagger. Harry watched him approach the crowd of unruly werewolves in interest. He observed the werewolves as they took notice of the approaching man and fell to their knees in submission or bowed their heads and stepped back. _

_ Seeing the dominance and complete control in those bright amber eyes, Harry knew, without a doubt, that this was the infamous Fenrir Greyback. _

_ And as he stepped closer to the parted crowd, Harry saw what the ruckus was about. _

_ Inside the crowded circle, laid Remus Lupin. His robes were torn, showing more skin than clothing. Harry frowned. Lupin was an fascinating character to him; it was slightly a pity to see him so lowly. "Lupin," Greyback whispered in a sweet caress. "My _ Childe _," he cooed._

_ Long fingernails reached down to run through Remus' hair. The professor flinched backward with a pained whimper. Greyback's fingers pulled away, blood coating the appendages. The alpha smiled wolfishly and suckled the blood, eyes alighting. "My dear, Childe," Greyback tisked. "Do you dare try to crawl your way back to me, your Sire, after all these years?" The werewolf crouched down in front of Lupin, cocking his head to the side, studying his prey. "And to have the courage to come on Dumbledore's plead? To _ use _us?"_

_ Greyback tipped back his head, giving a barking laugh. _

** -SSC- **

"Come in, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Lupin greeted, opening the door for him. Harrison stepped through into his office, eyeing Sirius and the suitcases.

"Leaving somewhere, Professor?" Harry already knew the answer. He flashed Sirius a look, seeing the man look downright angry, and then turned his attention to the werewolf across from him. The man caressed the top of his suitcase, looking pensive. Obviously, with the thick tension drowning the room, Harrison knew he had interrupted something.

"Ah…" Remus hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. Of course he would be unsure if he should share the Order's information. "Actually, yes, I am. Sirius here will be taking over my classes for me-,"

"He's leaving on Dumbledore's orders," Sirius barked, frowning deeply. "The old man wants him to find his old pack, _Greyback's_ bloody pack, and try to court them on our side for the war." _What side is that, Sirius?_ Harry thought as he watched Sirius' façade drop completely. The man's dark aura easily gave Harry a second glance. The frozen and raw smell of frost came from his cousin, reminding Harry that Sirius wasn't all just laughs and jokes.

"I hardly think you should be discussing this with Harrison, Sirius. He's just a boy-,"

"Bullocks," Sirius snapped. "You and I both know Harry is everything _but_ a child."

Harry stood stiffly, blinking once. "Actually, your leave is why I came here in the first place, Professor." The two paused in their arguing, snapping their attention onto Harry. "You see," Harry shrugged, motioning to the Seer mark on his cheek. Both of their gazes flew toward his gesture. "Considering I'm a Seer, I don't usually share my visions with another. Fate already despises us because of our choice to interfere and not… but I can't help to have a soft spot for you, Professor."

Remus frowned, looking perplexed. Sirius on the other hand, stared openly at Harry, sharp grey eyes studying him. "What-," Remus cleared his throat. "What do you mean, Harrison?"

Harry leaned against the wall, giving a small smirk. "What I mean, is that Dumbledore is sending you on a suicide mission. You'll be attacked by the werewolves."

Sirius leaped from his chair, tipping it backwards. "I knew it, Remus!"

The professor shook his head. "Did you truly See my death, Harrison? Or was it just them attacking me?"

"It doesn't matter!" Sirius interrupted, growling. Harry watched as his cousin lifted his lip, showing his teeth. At the moment, the human was more wolf than the werewolf. "You can't go, not when Harry Saw-,"

"He didn't necessarily See my death-,"

Harry stayed silent, completely content on leaning against the wall and watching the verbal fight break out between the two. Desperation and anger was coming off Sirius in waves, while Remus was unsure, hesitant, and lost. Studying them, Harry contemplated on their relationship. If they were lovers, they hid it relatively well. He couldn't see any lustful thoughts or feelings… but that could simply be because they were fighting.

Of course, there was love, a strong love. But love didn't necessarily have to do with a sexual way.

Eventually, Remus took a deep breath, bowing his head in submission to Sirius. "I'll go have a discussion with Dumbledore."

His cousin growled, crossing his arms. "Good."

And without their notice, Harry slipped from their room.

Another _nice_ deed.

Bloody hell.


	21. All Your Hands on Me

** Chapter Twenty One: All Your Hands on Me **

Harrison rubbed his front teeth with his tongue, glancing at his reflection in a passing mirror. Was that…was that a bloody _hair_ on his face? "Egh," he hissed in disgust, reaching out his palm to rub at the small stubble on his chin. There was more than one hair. Granted, he knew he would grow hair there as he grew older, but did it have to look so… unattractive? So _imperfect_?

Sneering, he used his magic to shave wandlessly.

After which, it was nothing but smooth skin. "Better," he murmured, satisfied. Brilliant green eyes looked passed himself in the mirror to watch Neville Longbottom roam the hall in a sort of dream-like manner. Giving himself a last minute cheek to see if everything was in place and proper, Harry tugged his sleeves and brushed off the imaginary lint off his robes, following behind the boy-who-lived. He stalked behind the boy, taking pleasure in the heavy weight of sorrow and grief.

Tragedy had finally struck the boy wonder. And it was brilliant to know that he had caused it.

"Hello Neville," he softened his voice and his expression as the boy-who-lived turned around.

"Oh, hey Harry," Neville whispered, the dark circles under his eyes pronounced with the shadows. "I haven't seen you for awhile."

The little boy was trying to be strong. Harry could see the tears right behind his eyes. "Well," Harry shrugged, offering Neville a fake sad smile. "I heard about Ron. Well, we all have. I thought you might like some… space." He threw in the feeling of sympathy, feeling Neville become drawn to him. The boy needed someone. He was pushing everyone away with his best mate's death, but Harry would make him depend on _him._

It was all part of the plan.

"I…" With his Seer influence, Neville seemed to shift closer to him. "I really am sorry about how we treated you before, Harry." His head bowed. "Ron would have been sorry as well." The boy's voice cracked and Harry tisked gently.

His hands reached out and landed on Longbottom's shoulder. For a moment, he paused, never being this physical close to the boy before. He felt _it_. He felt Riddle's soul within Longbottom. It sparked and purred at Harry's touch, warming his hand. Neville looked through his lashes at Harry, giving him a hesitant smile. The stupid, foolish boy probably wasn't affected. Or was he? Harry considered Longbottom's emotions. His sorrow was on the forefront of his mind, but there was something else. Attraction and desperation to be accepted.

So Neville _was_ influenced by his proximity because of the Horcrux.

Oh. Things just got even easier.

"I could never hold a grudge against you at a time like this, Neville." Neville, so easily brainwashed and manipulated, gave Harry a true smile.

"Thanks Harry, that's one burden I can take off my shoulders." _Considering you have_ so _many… fool._ Longbottom reached out his own hand and laid it over Harry's positioned on his shoulder. The Seer repressed his own feelings of repulsion and instead transferred warm feelings to the boy.

Neville towered over him. Harry was aware of that now, with how close they were. Even if the boy was only average height, and probably couldn't hold a flame to the Dark Lord's towering frame, he was still considered tall next to Harry. It ruffled Harry the wrong way. _He_ should be the imposing figure. "If you ever need anything, anything at all, don't be afraid to come to me, Neville. I know we haven't been very close in the past, but I believe we can always start over."

Riddle's soul licked at him, sending a painful shock down his wrist.

Harry smiled and pulled his hand away, trying to look as subtle as possible. "I'll keep that in mind, Harry. Thank you." And Harry knew he would.

Neville and he were going to have such a _fun_ time together. Especially with the conversations Harry would orchestra.

Longbottom looked lighter after their conversation. Of course, that was Harry's doing. He had gotten rid of the grief and loss and instead poured comfort and hope to the boy, only around him, of course. When Longbottom would leave his presence, he would drown in the grief and loss… which would make him seek Harry's comforting presence when he felt overwhelmed. This was all _too_ fun.

Harry watched him leave through lowered lids, feeling lighter than he had ever felt in ages.

"Trying to seduce the boy wonder?" A voice whispered huskily in his ear. Hands rested on his narrow hips and slowly slid forward, wrapping possessive arms across his waist. Harry was pulled against a solid chest and lips traced the shell of his ear.

"Blaise-," Harry protested, feeling the lips trail down his neck.

"Don't try to stop me, Harrison." His hold tightened on the smaller boy. "I want you, and you can't deny that you're attracted to me." Chocolate colored fingers grasped his small chin and turned his head to the side. Plump lips crushed into his own; searing them.

Harry moaned into the kiss, feeling knots of tension tighten in his stomach. He would never deny that this felt good. Because it did. But it wasn't rough like he enjoyed; it didn't involve warm saliva and blood, or teeth that tore his skin. Blaise was gentle and passionately slow. Whereas Voldemort was dominating and controlling. Both of these types of kisses turned him on. It confused him how that could be, when they were as different as night and day.

Harry pulled away just as Blaise's tongue came to play. Around him, students paused in their motions, staring openly. "Now is not the place to do this, Zabini." Harry whispered fiercely, trying to step out of the hold. "It's dangerous-,"

"This isn't infidelity, Harrison." Blaise wouldn't let go. "You're not being disloyal to _him_. Not after every thing he's done to you. He betrayed you, it's only right to realize you two aren't in a relationship."

Harry's lips thinned. "I don't want you to get hurt, Blaise." He narrowed his eyes at the watchful Slytherins who passed by in the shadows. "He'll know. And he'll go out of his way to destroy you."

Blaise clutched at his arm, not letting go. "I'm not afraid of him."

Green eyes flashed. "You lie. You're terrified of him."

"My desire for you overpowers my fear for him. Tell me you don't see this as infidelity; tell me you're over your desire for him." Blaise clutched his upper arms, shaking him. "Or are you simply keeping me at arms length because you're too afraid to form attachments? I would never hurt you like they-,"

"This is hardly a place to have a lover's spat, Zabini." Harry turned to see Draco gliding toward them, his grey eyes narrowed on Blaise.

"Malfoy," Blaise sneered himself. The two boys, of equal height, stared at one another, willing the other to look away first. "I don't even know why you care."

Harry sighed, feeling the hatred and jealousy coming off from both Draco and Blaise. His brother held more of the jealousy, Blaise held more of the annoyance. It didn't make much sense why Draco was jealous. Unless… Draco had a thing for Blaise. But that wouldn't make sense either. Looking closer, he saw his brother's jealousy directed toward Blaise, not him.

"He's my brother and he has a soft spot for you. Reasons unknown to me, of course." Draco gave a deep smirk. "I just don't want to see him hurt because of your foolish actions alerting the Dark Lord's anger."

Blaise scoffed, raising his eyebrows. "You're just jealous because I'm closer to him than you." Harry shook his head, exasperated. "You see he holds power now and all you want to do is worm your way into his life and become his number one priority. It won't happen, Malfoy. You're an idiot."

He turned his back on the two, intent on going down to the Slytherin common room. Instead, he saw a worried Sirius Black jog toward him. "Harry," Egh. He reeked of fright and horror. "Please, Harry…"

"Don't ask that of me, Sirius," Harry hissed, narrowing his eyes at his cousin. The man came to a stop beside him, looking weak and pathetic. Harry cast a silencing charm around the four of them, shielding their conversation from passerbyers.

"Harry-,"

"I warned you." Harry remained stiff. "I warned Lupin and I warned you what would happen if he went. Let me guess, he went anyway?"

Grey eyes held unshed tears. "He tried to talk with Dumbledore. The old fool told him not to rely on your powers so much. You didn't necessarily See his death, it was a good enough reason for Dumbledore to tell Remus to go anyway."

"So what exactly are you asking of Harrison?" Blaise took an advancing step forward. Draco, not wanting to be in the shadows, took his own step closer.

Harry shot Blaise a look, mentally telling him to quiet. Turning back to Sirius, Harry gave the man a shrug. "I'm sorry Sirius, I can't do that. I've already tried to save his life. I cannot enter the werewolves' den by myself-,"

"I'll go with you." Sirius pleaded. "Merlin, Harry, please, I'll do _anything_ if you help me get him back."

Harry and Sirius held each other's gazes. "Anything?" Harry whispered softly. "That's a pretty big offer, Sirius. One that I find myself not able to refuse." Sirius' face twisted, so many emotions trying to take hold of him; surprise, relief, panic…

"You'll go then? You'll help me save him?"

"You'll owe me that debt-," he was Slytherin after all…

"Yes, anything, please Harry."

For awhile, Harry enjoyed the sight of Sirius so desperate. But then it got old and disturbing. Glancing at Blaise and Draco, he raised an eyebrow. "Are you up for a _grand_ adventure with the wolves?"

** -SSC- **

Why was he doing this again?

He angrily brushed off another dirt particle from his robes, taking a deep breath to calm himself. It was dirty, it smelt… horrible, like sweaty feet and wet dog. And Draco wasn't making it any better as he kept complaining out loud. "None of us like this, Draco," Harry hissed, turning his head around to glare at the blonde. "But will you keep quiet? Werewolves have acute hearing, they will hear us if you keep _talking._ "

"What crawled up your arse and died?" Draco drawled, curling his lip.

"Your severed dick, Malfoy." Blaise snapped back.

"Incest really isn't my thing, Zabini."

"Really?" He drawled. "Could have fooled me with those lustful stares you give Harrison all the time. You're bloody obsessed-,"

"Silence," Harry hissed, his magic spiking with annoyance. They wisely shut their mouths and continued forward. This…scene… reminded him strongly of Octavio's hideout. Although it wasn't in a cave, it _was_ underground. The ground was spongy and the air was moist. Sirius had told him where the werewolves were residing considering Remus had told him beforehand. Harry just didn't understand why people never took him seriously. He warned Lupin, and what does the werewolf do? Go off anyway, listening to that damned old fool.

"Incest is actually not unheard of in the dark pureblood world." Sirius added his own two cents in. "I mean, the Malfoy's and Black's are all but related, and yet they get married anyway."

"This is such a waste of conversation," Harry snapped. "Will you all _shut up?"_

He'd rather not have the werewolves kill him and have _this_ conversation as his dying memory. "Merlin, Harrison, you need to get laid."

Green eyes glowed sinisterly as they locked with Blaise. It was enough to make the boy blanch and remain quiet. Sirius coughed in his hand, hiding a grin. "I don't see why you're so jolly go lucky, Sirius." Harry whispered softly. "Your lover is going to _die_ if we don't get there on time. Not only that, but with your mindless conversations, we may be found out and ambushed before we have even so much as a warning. You all underestimate werewolves. You think Lupin is a werewolf? He's a bloody mutt compared to Greyback and his pack."

He pointed his wand at Blaise and Draco after Sirius paled and looked down. "And I picked you two to come along because I thought you could handle this. I thought you'd at least understand how serious this is and act like _responsible_ adults." Pleased, he watched as they looked down as well, loosing their mirth.

A slow and quiet clapping was heard through the underground cavern. " _Those_ are the actions of a future Dark Lord, Harrison." Harry tensed as he watched the shadows move and form into a group of Death Eaters. "My, you'll make a fine and _perfect_ consort for our Lord."

Sirius stiffened, pointing his wand at the Death Eaters. They seemed to ignore him entirely as they stood, almost bored. In the front, who had spoken, was none other than his aunt, Bellatrix Lestrange. Beside her, was Lucius. Even if they all had masks on, Harry could easily tell them apart; from the manner they held themselves and also their aura. His father's cold grey eyes shimmered out of his mask, staring at him, studying him.

Harry was too raw to handle all this now. It was too soon to see them again.

But what bothered him even more, was the fact that they were _here_ , of all places. First it had been showing up at Octavio's hideout unexpectedly and now _here_. He narrowed his eyes, furious. "How did you know I was here?" He barked.

Bellatrix gave a childish laugh. "When the Dark Lord says he has eyes on you, Harrison, he takes it very seriously." The hair on the back of his neck stood up at her statement. He knew the Dark Lord was powerful; perhaps he had underestimated the man's vow of watching him. It sent him on edge. He had many warnings; from Voldemort himself and Draco…and Blaise. He just never believed Voldemort could watch him with such…precision.

He eyed the large serpent around Bellatrix's shoulders. The serpent coiled around her shoulders twice, and still, its tail almost brushed the floor. Nagini. The serpent's eyes flickered as they watched him with a sick pleasure.

Bellatrix stroked the serpent with a lover's caress, keeping her eyes on him. "The Dark Lord lent us to you, as aid and protection." She gave a bow as much as possible with the heavy snake on her shoulders. Behind her, the Death Eaters bowed lower. "We are yours to serve, my young Lord."

Harry breathed heavily through his nose, feeling his rage raise the hair on his arms. "He didn't come on his own?"

"He had things to do," Bellatrix replied as she and the rest of the Death Eater's straightened up. Lucius remained quiet, keeping his stare an eerie calm. Harry refused to keep eye contact with the man. "He sends his warm regards, though."

"That was very _nice_ , of the man." Harry drawled, swallowing his scream of outrage. How dare the Dark Lord act like Harry was his salivating servant, needing his _help._ "But I'm afraid I don't want, nor need, your help."

Sirius loosened his stance with a grin of pleasure at Harry's words. Draco and Blaise stuck to his sides, closing him in like two bodyguards would do. Bellatrix's gaze flickered to Blaise and those dark eyes deepened in hatred and disgust. "But Harrison," she sang insanely. Harry saw her aura peek with holes. It was like Ronald Weasley's, but… far more damaged. She wasn't suicidal or depressed, just…insane. Although it did look slightly better from the last time he had seen her.

"The Dark Lord just didn't send us as aid in getting your werewolf _friend_ back. He sent us to retrieve you." Nagini hissed in laughter at Bellatrix's words, swaying her head back and forth. "No, he wants your presence. It's time to go to your rightful place."

"Clever," green eyes glowed fiercely as he took a step forward. "Did he tell you to say that? Because I think I've heard those words before."

Bellatrix seemed to hesitate at the show of power, her eyes widening before narrowing. "You've been very disrespectful to the Dark Lord, little nephew of mine. Running around with this _trash_ , when your body belongs to the Dark Lord." She hissed at Zabini, motioning her wand in his direction, ready to curse him.

She didn't get the first syllable out of her lips. Her fingers froze over with ice. "You will not _harm_ him, Bellatrix." Harry stepped in front of Blaise. "Nor do you have a right to stick your egoistic nose in the Dark Lord's and my privacy. What happens between him and I is _private_ , you will not belittle me, you will not disrespect me. Do you understand?" The ice inched further up her arm. Harry knew it would be painful, but Bellatrix tipped back her neck and laughed. It showed him just how messed up in the head she was.

"Pathetic," Harry spat, turning his back on the Death Eaters. "Bloody insane."

"He's worried about you," a new voice took over for the Death Eaters. Harry knew, without turning, that it was Lucius. "You look like hell, Harrison. Your weight-,"

"The day the Dark Lord is truly worried; I'll get on my hands and knees and lick the bottom of his boots." Harry vowed. "I will not be leaving with you." He looked over his shoulder at the silent crowd of Death Eaters. "You can either help me with the werewolves, as I'm sure the Dark Lord would love their alliance, or stay the hell out of my business."

He continued forward. "Bloody hell," Sirius breathed his eyes wide as he trotted to keep up with Harry. "I never knew the Dark Lord and you had such a…"

"Save it Sirius," Harry whispered, using his nose to guide him to where the werewolves were. They already lost a lot of time. "You knew I was never light. The Dark Lord and I do have a history, yes, but you'd do better to stay out of it." He turned to look at his cousin. The man was frowning. "You won't tell anyone about what you've heard today."

It wasn't a question and it certainly wasn't a plead, but Sirius nodded nonetheless.

Draco and Blaise pushed at each other to get on the other side of Harry. "That was brilliant," Draco breathed, eyes drinking in Harry obsessively. "Who knew saving Lupin would be so much fun."

"Ah," Harry smirked. "The fun has yet to begin, my dear brother."

The four lead the way, ignoring the slithering crowd of Death Eaters behind them. Harry had trouble pulling his rage and anger away before he encountered the werewolves. The last thing he wanted was to storm in there with his magic unveiled and have them attack out of fear and defense. But it was difficult when he knew that… _man's_ eyes were on him. Voldemort knew everything, just like Draco said. And now the Dark Lord had the audacity to request for Harry to leave Hogwarts and come to him?

It wasn't right. And he'd do anything in his power to avoid that scenario. The man had yet to apologize for his wrongdoing. Sending his servants out to 'help' him didn't count at all. And the fact that the Dark Lord knew _everything_ that was going on with him at Hogwarts didn't settle well with him.

"You're giving off restless vibes," Blaise murmured in his ear. "Calm down."

Harry took a calming breath as he came upon a deep grove. He ducked down, and peeked inside the warm den. Already, the werewolves were surrounding Lupin and Greyback. From the looks of things, Lupin was dying. He was too late.

"Merlin, Harry, please…" Sirius whimpered.

"I'm sorry Sirius," Harry breathed, seeing Lupin's aura flicker. Behind him, the Death Eaters all crowded in close. There was not one bit of privacy… "We're too late." Bellatrix gave a snicker, sending Sirius on a rampage. "Sirius- Sirius!" Harry hissed, lunging toward his cousin who had charged inside the den, yelling in rage.

For a moment, all Harry could do was rub his temples. He watched as the werewolves all tensed up and snapped their attention toward the charging wizard. Greyback stood up, his amber eyes flashing in amusement. That was, until Sirius spat a curse at him.

Harry stepped forward and with his magic, he intercepted the curse. He subdued Sirius, watching as his cousin dropped to the floor, bound. "So sorry about that," Harry drawled.

Wild amber eyes were immediately directed at him. Harry knew instantly that they were intrigued by him, by his Seer. Crouching down low, they prowled closer to him, sniffing him out. Harry remained still, keeping his hands calmly by his sides. He kept half his attention on the Death Eaters, making sure they didn't attack. They kept still, waiting his orders like the good little servants they were.

Greyback straightened up from his position near Remus and drank Harry in.

The werewolves around Harry touched him and his robes, paying special attention of rubbing themselves against his body. Pretty soon, he was surrounded, blocked. He couldn't see anything but burning and sweaty skin. He tried to hold his breath, because the more he smelt, the more his magic wanted to be released to attack. Growls of pleasure sounded in their chests and Harry did everything in his power to keep his gaze upward, away from their exposed and hardening members.

Fingers clutched at his skin, claiming it with licks and small bites. Harry had to remind himself that if they broke his skin, he wouldn't get the infection. It was only semen, exchange of blood, and bites on the full moon.

Soon, Harry had to struggle in order to stay standing. He could feel the Death Eater's and Draco and Blaise's hesitation. They wanted to attack. And at the moment, Harry wouldn't mind a little help.

"Back off lovelies," instantly, the tongues and bodies disappeared, stepping away from him- if not a little slowly.

Taking his eyes off the ceiling, Harry turned his gaze on to the approaching figure of Greyback. Keeping his eyes on the alpha, Harry lifted Sirius off his bindings. His cousin stumbled to his feet, running to the prone form of Lupin. "What do we have here, hmm?" He walked through the parting werewolves, exuberating pure power. Not magical power, but physical and mental power.

Greyback stood in front of him, easily towering over him. With a large hand, he reached out and turned Harry's chin, bearing the Seer mark to his eyes. "A Seer…" Greyback purred deeply. Leaning forward, his lips caressed Harry's ear. "A _pretty_ little Seer, a legend among werewolves. We call them our Moon Childe." Sharp amber eyes glanced behind him. "With the presence of Death Eaters."

Stepping closer, Harry could feel the burning heat from Greyback's skin. Strong arms wrapped around his waist and brought him flush against his chest. "I would like to make a transaction with you," he murmured as Greyback bent down low to inhale his neck.

"Get your filthy hands off him!"

It was Bellatrix, of course it would be. Fenrir gave a deep laugh, remaining close. He ignored Bellatrix's spat and continued to caress Harry's neck. "You smell delicious, pretty Seer." A tongue came out and ran itself across Harry's cheek. Refusing to shudder in disgust, Harry bit his lower lip. It wouldn't do well to give off uncomfortable vibes… his Seer had to remain neutral, if not alluring with the werewolves around.

"A deal…" Harry reminded, feeling Greyback rub himself against him. _Merlin._ God… He was all but humping him. His face flushed, knowing what he must look like to the Death Eaters. He pulled back, but Greyback gripped his wrist, pulling him back.

"Let me guess," Greyback leered. "You want that little mutt on the floor, am I right?"

The Death Eaters were advancing forward, finally getting annoyed enough with Greyback to come forth. The werewolves were in a circle around both Harry and Fenrir, and they growled, bearing their teeth as they faced the Death Eaters in a crouch.

Harry breathed through his nose. At least Greyback had stopped rubbing himself on him. But that could be because he was satisfied that Harry already reeked of him. Instead, his heavy hand was playing with Harry's loose curls, while the other still curled around his wrist. "I think…" Harry started, flashing a grinning Greyback a glare. "That Lupin is already close to death. I think we need to make another bargaining chip."

Greyback barked in laughter, his long finger nails scrapping and combing through Harry's hair. "Oh, Childe, you want me to give my loyalty to the Dark Lord, don't you? Become the dark side's _dog_." Sharp teeth flashed. "I think not."

The Death Eaters all raised their wands, ready to cast at the werewolves. Harry turned away from Fenrir's stare and hissed at them. "Do not attack; I have not given you the right to do so, have I?" They hesitantly lowered their wands. Harry turned back around to Greyback.

"Interesting…" The alpha murmured. "It seems with our absence, things on the dark side have changed. Is the Dark Lord still-,"

"Dark Lord Voldemort is still the Lord, yes. He has just given me a handful of his Death Eaters as an apology gift."

"So you have just as much power as him?" Fenrir leaned closer. "Both in authority to the dark side and in magical means." His lip turned up. "I detest wizards, pretty, but you… you are different. I may just have to make an offer with you." Harry relaxed slightly. "Tell me, what is your name?"

"Harrison Malfoy," he grounded out.

"A Malfoy?" Greyback's eyes finally tore themselves away from Harry's face, the first time since their encounter, and glanced at Draco. "The little blonde whelps?" Harry looked at his brother, Seeing the raw fear as Fenrir stared him down. "You are but an Adonis to them, pretty." Greyback turned back around and stroked his hair. "What is it that you wish of us?"

"Lupin," Harry shook himself, glancing at Sirius. The man was trying to heal Remus, shaking and muttering above the werewolf. Seeing Remus now, Harry knew the werewolf could hang on. "And your… assistance with the dark."

Greyback chuckled lowly in his throat. "Assistance? _Assistance_ , did you hear that?" He directed his question to the werewolves at his feet. They all flashed him a grin full of teeth, setting Harry on edge. "Assistance, pretty? Not servitude? Not _slavery?_ "

The werewolves all laughed. "No," Harry cut them off. "I believe werewolves are their own group of beings. Just like wizards are. You are but a Lord to your people, Greyback, are you not? Just like Lord Voldemort is to his wizards." Harry took a step closer to Greyback, grinning up at him. "I can't imagine a Lord of werewolves on his knees, sniveling. Just like I can't imagine Voldemort on his knees for the Lord of wolves."

Greyback lost his mirth. He was hard to read as he stared openly at Harry. "Of course, Lord Voldemort would still be the commander, if you will. He's in charge, but you will never have to act so lowly to him."

Harry knew he was digging on ground he should stay _far_ away from. Voldemort would have wanted the werewolves to be sniveling creatures, crawling to him and salivating all over the floor. But Harry couldn't see that. Werewolves were powerful creatures in their own right. It best if he approach them on equal grounds.

"I would kill you now, pretty, if I didn't see first hand the amount of power you hold over the dark." Greyback started. "Offering me partnership, instead of servitude is something _no one_ can do, but the Dark Lord. I would take you as a double crosser, luring us to an agreement, and then ensnaring us as beasts as soon as we come within your proximity." Harry could understand that, he supposed. "What I want to know is what you _are_ to the dark side to hold this much power? To grant us something such as this?"

Harry remained quiet. Werewolves didn't understand that the more magical power someone held, the higher their status. Considering he had the same amount of power as the Dark Lord, it was a given he would have the same authority… but it wasn't really that way. It was complicated. Voldemort still saw Harry as lower, and Harry wasn't even sure he _wanted_ to be on the dark side… leading along side the man.

He wanted to be neutral. Yet, he was a dark neutral.

"Harrison is the Dark Lord's consort."

Harry took a deep breath, calming his rage. He was going to _kill_ his aunt.

"I am _not_."

Greyback smartly stayed silent on the subject, only tugging Harry closer. He seemed to take Bellatrix's answer as acceptable, for his trust brightened. "Alright, little pretty, we will help the dark, more specifically, _you._ " Greyback leered. "I make this deal with you and you alone. I will only listen to your orders."

"Merlin," Harry groaned. Why did this negotiating have to be so complicated? He vowed he'd never do this again. "No, you don't understand… Dark Lord Voldemort is in charge, not _me._ " Actually… the more he thought about it… the more he realized that it would piss off the Dark Lord if the werewolves listened to only him.

A smirk pulled the corners of his mouth. He was not a leader, he could admit that readily. He'd do a terrible job at leading the werewolves into wars or missions. But he could relay Voldemort's orders… for a price from the Dark Lord, of course. "Only you, pretty," Greyback barked, tightening his hold on his wrist. "If you are who you say, your orders will be just as true as the Dark Lord's."

"Alright," Harry agreed.

"Good," Greyback was pleased. "Now what do I get in return to our alliance?"

The Death Eaters all hissed and murmured in displeasure. "You mutt," Bellatrix sneered. "He's already stepped over the Dark Lord's bounds and actually gave you dignity for the animal you are."

"Bellatrix," Harry turned to her, eyeing her still frozen arm. Nagini was still upright, staring at the scene unfolding, probably the Dark Lord's eyes. "All it will take of me is a simple magic trick and your arm will be shattered. Forever. I'd keep your mouth _shut_." She sneered at him but he turned away looking at Greyback. "What is it that you want?"

"I think you are smart enough to realize what I want." Greyback drawled suggestively tugging Harry flush against his body again. "I want you; preferably as a mate."

"You know I can't accept that," Harry scolded.

He shrugged, letting Harry go. "Then our deal is off. Either I get _you_ , or the light side will gain us as an ally and I'll just get you on my own method."

Harry stood there stiffly, looking around at Greyback's pack. "It looks like you need females."

"My pack is a strong pack; I leave the weak women for my subpacks." Meaning, Fenrir controlled more than just his pack. Harry's lips thinned. He had planned on giving Greyback Granger, but seeing as Fenrir was stubborn, it appeared as if his plan was null. "I want you, pretty, only you."

"He's the Dark Lord's _consort_ , beast. Are you-,"

"Bellatrix," Lucius' hand shot out and curled around her frozen arm, squeezing the area where her skin and ice met. She hissed. "Keep quiet."

"There must be something else you want," Harry murmured. "I am a Seer, becoming werewolf will destroy that. And you won't find me half as alluring as you do now without my Seer." Greyback's back was turned to him.

"I think you're wrong about that, pretty." Greyback looked over his shoulder. "But I suppose I can accept your denial. What I want, in return, is one night with you."

"Do you think me stupid?" Harry spat. "Your semen will infect me." He could feel the Death Eaters become far more anxious. They were just _itching_ to attack. Remus was slowly loosing ground and Sirius didn't look as healthy as he did when he was charging inside the werewolf den. His power was drained, having attempted to heal Remus. They need to go… soon.

Greyback gave him a predatory grin. "Perhaps. I'd say we can use magic to withhold my seed from you, but I'd like nothing better than to see it all over you." Harry stiffened, feeling his stomach knot in both disgust and… Merlin. He _wasn't_ turned on.

He needed to get laid; preferably with someone _other_ than a werewolf.

"Alright then, I have an idea." Greyback turned back around. "You have your freaky magic tricks. You can shape shift, can't you?"

"Animagus, yes," Harry responded warily, knowing where this was going. There were potions out there, which allowed one to chose which form to be, rather than having it choose _you_. But Harry had yet to experiment with his magic. Perhaps, with his power, he could transform himself without the need to the potion.

"I want you to become a wolf and join us on full moon nights. Your presence is intoxicating and calm… my pack will benefit from having you around."

"As will you," Harry pointed out dryly. Greyback just flashed his canines. "That, I can accept, Greyback-,"

"Fenrir to you, pretty."

He took a deep breath. "I will agree on that, Fenrir. But, there may be nights that are impossible for me to get away." Greyback lowered his lids, glowering.

" _Every_ full moon, Childe."

Harry grinded his teeth together, stepped backwards. The werewolves all growled in protest of his retreat. "Every moon, Fenrir." He motioned to a motionless Blaise and Draco to help Sirius and start leaving. They seemed to understand his message, for they jogged over toward Sirius and helped him off the floor. "I'll see you here, next full moon, then." He turned to leave, pausing when the werewolves all reared up, blocking his escape.

Greyback seemed pleased by his pack's actions. "Greyback," Harry hissed, snapping his head around to glare at the alpha. "Let me through. Or the deal is _off_." The alpha sighed, motioning with a lazy hand to back off. They did. Regrettably. Harry pushed through their solid bodies, feeling a few wandering hands. "Let's go." He helped Draco's struggling with his magic, lifting Remus' dead weight from his arms.

His brother flashed him a thankful look and they hurried out of the den.

It was a matter of minutes before the Death Eaters caught up to them, their disappointment clearly showing. They had wanted a fight. "You're coming back with us, my Lord." Harry's eye twitched at the voice of a Death Eater. "He has ordered your presence, we cannot fail."

Whirling around, he gripped both Blaise and Draco's arms. Making sure they were holding on to both Sirius and Remus, he turned back around, looking at Nagini. _"You can tell him to fuck off, you understand me? Before he can even approach me, I want an apology. A_ real _apology."_ He hissed in Parseltongue.

And with that, he apparated. A spell whizzed past his shoulder, missing him entirely. The last thing he heard was Bellatrix's scream of rage.

** -SSC- **

Owls passed up ahead, dropping letters and packages to their intended destination. Harry watch, disinterested, as a Malfoy crested enveloped landed in front of him. "Mummy and daddy on their knees again?" Blaise taunted; a smirk in place.

"Humorous," Harry scolded, not amused. Draco met his eyes further down the table, staring at him intensely. His twin hadn't received any mail from their parents. Odd. Usually Draco always got mail when Harry did.

Reaching out, Harry opened the envelope, feeling his stomach grow cold as he read the familiar spidery script. Voldemort.

_ You can't avoid me forever, my sweet. _

The hell he couldn't.

Harry shredded the letter and placed it in his water, disgusted.


	22. This Pain is Just too Real

** Chapter Twenty Two: This Pain is Just too Real **

" _Agh,"_ Harry moaned as Blaise sucked his neck. "Blaise,"

"I would have never taken you as the noisy kind, Harrison." The black boy whispered huskily. His teeth hit another sensitive spot, causing Harry to give a rather loud squirming sound. He could feel Blaise harden above him. "Fuck, Harrison… make that noise again."

He chuckled as he pushed at Blaise's chest, forcing the boy to be the bottom. He climbed on top and took control. With Voldemort, the man would be fighting fiercely, not allowing Harry leeway. But Blaise laid there, content. Harry paused in the kissing, feeling his stomach twist in guilt. He couldn't do this.

"I can't do this," Harry whispered, placing his forehead onto Blaise's. The black wizard slumped backward with a growl of exasperation.

"Are you bloody kidding me? You'd rather fuck that red eyed bastard? After everything he's done to you?" Harry remained quiet, frowning. He didn't know what he was feeling. It was wrong to feel as if he owed Voldemort loyalty when the man treated him so lowly. But why was he _always_ comparing Blaise to him? Why did he always feel the guilt when he kissed another? Simply because Harry knew, deep down, that it _was_ infidelity… and he would never commit that act. Ever.

"I can't do this." Harry said more strongly. "He may be a bastard, but he's my Match."

"Harrison-," Blaise started again, but paused, his eyes widening. _"Ah!"_ Blaise screamed, whimpering and thrashing. "Merlin! Help me!" His eyes watered and Harry jumped off him, eyes widening when he saw Blaise's grey trousers turn red with blood.

"Bloody hell," he whispered. With shaking fingers, he raked a hand through his hair.

"Harry, Harry," Blaise chanted in a plead. His fingers shook as they placed themselves over his manhood. "Please help…"

"I don't know-," he started, but paused when he heard a hissing chuckle. His heart skipped a beat and the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight. _"Voldemort?"_ All he was met with was hissing laughter. _"Damn it, Tom. If you are powerful enough to be here, you're efficient enough to_ talk."

Blaise thrashed harder, tears running down his cheeks. The laughter seemed to grow fonder and more excited as Blaise suffered harder. Harry lunged forward, placing his hands on either side of the smooth and wet cheeks. "Blaise," Harry soothed, pouring his Seer magic into the boy. Immediately, the pain left Blaise's eyes as he relaxed. The pain was still there, Harry could feel the Dark Lord's magic still present, but with his Seer, he could easily block it.

Voldemort hissed in displeasure.

"You saw that I stopped, I wouldn't have done it… damnit." Harry cursed, seething. "It shouldn't matter what I do. You've had your chance with me and you ruined it." He couldn't possibly imagine how Voldemort could be here. The Dark Lord wasn't really _here_ , but his presence was. It was frightening at how powerful the man was when he put his mind after things.

" _We need to talk…"_ The voice sounded fragmented, almost as if it were slowly loosing power.

"Bullshit," Harry spat, eyes narrowing. He caressed Blaise's cheeks and sent him into an unconscious state. "I'm through with you, Lord Voldemort." Despite the fact he couldn't even fuck someone else. "I'll be giving you one gift, one parting gift you've always wanted, and then we'll be on our way."

The voice was silent and for a moment Harry thought he'd left. _"And what is that? You?"_

Harry scoffed, sneering. "As much as I know you want my virginity-," Well he essentially lost it to Cho…

" _Not just your body, silly child. I want_ you. _"_ Harry was taken aback by the intensity of those words. He blinked, breathing heavily. He knew the Dark Lord had wanted him, why was it so different hearing it from his own lips? It didn't matter…

"No," Harry replied softly, staring across the room at his reflection. "It's something much more… you've always said how much you wanted it. Even more than me." He replied bitterly. In the mirror, Voldemort's transparent form appeared behind him. The man's face was bent toward his neck. Crimson eyes glanced up into the mirror.

" _And then you'll leave me? After you give me a gift you claim would make me tremble in desire? I find it hard to believe that you can go anywhere on this world that I can't reach. I'll always be there."_

"You underestimate me so much, Tom." Harry drawled, eyes flashing. "I guess you'll just have to wait your turn, won't you? Sadly, you are my last priority at the moment." Liar. He scolded himself. Everything he's done, he's always thought of what the Dark Lord would think.

" _Hmm,"_ the Dark Lord murmured. _"That hurts, just a little."_ In the mirror, the Dark Lord seemed to lean forward, wanting to kiss his neck. But the only thing Harry felt was the static of magic and the smell of lilacs.

"You don't seem to take me all that seriously," Harry remarked. "I suppose you don't take my word to heart. You and I will _never_ be together."

" _I can never win with you, can I, little one?"_

"Perhaps," Harry moved away from the magic. "If you actually start trying, you will. Maybe starting with an apology can change my act of vengeance towards you." The Dark Lord started laughing.

" _Your act of_ vengeance _?"_ The man spat in amusement. " _You actually think you can hurt me?"_

Harry felt sick and hurt. "I don't think so, Tom. Someone actually needs to have a heart in order to hurt." He cocked his head to the side, unfolding his magic. "Seeing as you have nothing but a black hole, I suppose my revenge won't mean anything to you. But it will mean _so_ much to me."

With that, he used his magic to cleanse the room. Voldemort's presence left by force and the blood on Blaise disappeared. Pressing his fingers into the boy's temple, Harry closed his eyes. The pain was gone, Blaise would be fine.

** -SSC- **

"So…" Sirius started unsurely. Harry grinned, lounging on a chair next to Remus' bedside. The werewolf had barely made it. Madame Promfrey had done a fantastic job on fixing the man up. Sirius hadn't left the man's bedside ever since they had gotten back from the werewolves' den.

Harry's eyes were hooded as he concentrated on turning his hand into a paw. He grinned as it turned into a bushy black paw. Success. He'd been working on that for awhile now… he had pushed past the pain and the exhaustion, and the end result was _so_ nice. "Yes?" He murmured distractedly.

"Thanks again for what you did. You risked a lot-,"

"If you thank me _one_ more time, I'll deliver Lupin to Greyback myself." He dropped his paw, turning it back to a human appendage before it could hit the armrest. "You didn't just benefit, but the dark side did." He watched closely as Sirius looked down and shifted uncomfortable. "What?"

"I can't help but to wonder what's happening with you. I mean," Sirius shook his head, sighing. "Dumbledore…" he looked around, lowering his voice. "He _knew_ what would happen and he sent Remus anyway." Harry nodded, giving the man a thin smile. "I'm slowly loosing faith in him… but I can't go to the dark side, Harry, I just can't."

Harry closed his eyes briefly and then snapped them open, leaning forward, barely touching lips with Sirius. "This is where your debt comes in, cousin." Grey eyes widened, but he didn't pull away. Good. "You know Sirius; a part of being a Seer involves Seeing one's aura. You can't hide that behind a goofy and stupid smile. I can see your true self. You're dark by nature." Sirius opened his mouth. "Don't interrupt me." Harry snapped.

Sirius snapped his mouth shut. "I See that your magic is dark. Actually, that stops you from casting a lot of spells correctly. Not many wizards have this issue, you see, they can be either light or dark, but _you_ are dark. You are meant to be dark. Your family was dark and they pushed you to be dark. Being the rebellious child you were, you wanted to strip free of their expectations and rebel. Unfortunately for you, you didn't think you'd ever truly go light, did you?"

Before Sirius could respond, Harry continued. "You met three good friends; Remus Lupin, James Potter, and Peter Pettigrew. They showed you the 'true' meaning of _friendship._ " Harry sneered. "But James and his wife died in the war, as did Peter. You only have Remus now, Sirius. He's the only one holding you back, isn't he?"

Sirius remained silent. "You can feel your magic, Sirius." He reached out a hand and placed it on his cousin's chest. "It's unsettled." The man's magic jumped to him, almost pleading him. _Soon, lovely,_ he whispered mentally. "Did you ever think, perhaps, Remus would accept you if you decided to go dark? Dark isn't so much about killing, Sirius. Although I will admit that they do enjoy killing their enemies and a few useless muggles, it isn't all about the number of people you've slain, its about practicing the magic you crave… its about standing up for what you want."

Harry grinned. "Look at me, I'm dark. And I've only killed one." Poor Weasley. "And that was out of revenge, a simple desire. You see, being on the dark side, you can do _anything_ you want without having to worry about the consequences. Your magic will grow and mature. The Ministry wants to ban wizards with dark magic. But you see, we _need_ to perform the magic. It's in our blood, as it is in yours. That's the only reason why light and dark don't mix. Because they think we don't need to cast dark magic. That's pathetic. We do. And we'll fight to keep it that way."

He stood up, stroking Sirius' cheek on his way out. "I'll let you think on that, Sirius. Come to me when you're ready to face who you really are."

** -SSC- **

"Everyone is going, Harrison. Please. Mother begged me to convince you to come." Draco pleaded. "It's a black tie event. No robes, a lot of alcohol and almost all the Slytherins are going… and if that isn't your thing, father is inviting a lot of politicians."

Harry's eye twitched. Most the castle was empty and Harry decided to stay at Hogwarts for the Holidays. Pity. Longbottom was gone, out of his reach. It seemed as if he would have to work on the boy after break. Even Sirius retreated away with his werewolf lover. Really, how boring. But he'd rather have 'boring' than living with Lucius and a wide open space for the Dark Lord to visit. He wouldn't have it.

Unfortunately, Draco was staying with him _and_ Blaise, the two never shut _up._

"I'm not going," he looked at his brother. Draco was dressed in an elegant tuxedo with a green and silver tie. His hair was loose, blonde strands falling in his face. The rings on his fingers looked as if they were recently shined and polished as they blinked at him in sapphire blues and clear crystal. Malfoy colors, how quaint.

"Please, Harrison? Mother-,"

"I think you should go, Harrison." Blaise was lying on his bed, looking at his fingernails. "I was invited but I declined when I learned that you weren't going. If you want, I'll come with you. Malfoy's right, there's alcohol there… you haven't even tried any of the good stuff. I'll make sure you'll get wasted."

Draco curled his lip. "Pleasant, Zabini, as always." He turned back around to Harry. "Are you coming or not?"

"No," Harry snapped. "Stop asking me. You're already late and mother will be worried. Now _go_."

"There are gifts for you-," Harry turned his back on his brother, looking down at the homework he had for potions. Draco sighed. "She'll be devastated you know. She always loves Christmas with both of us. And the Dark Lord told father he wouldn't be there-,"

"Bloody hell, he's probably lying. The Dark Lord knows I wouldn't want to go if _he_ is attending, which is why he told Lucius to tell you he wasn't going." Harry snapped. "Leave, Draco, before I get truly annoyed and will never step _anywhere_ near the manor again." Draco gave a deep sigh and left in a snobbish pureblood manor.

"Merlin, finally," Blaise remarked as he scooted closer to Harry. Blaise's fingers took the quill from Harry's grip and slid his hand up his arm in a suggestive manner.

"Haven't you learned the last time?" Harry remarked, looking pointedly at Blaise's crotch. The boy hadn't really remembered anything but pain. His dick was still in place, but it was almost if he were pissing bloody acid. It wasn't a fun experience, one that Harry would rather not repeat.

"Do you not find me attractive?" Blaise whispered huskily, leaning closer. The black wizard had found a new sense of confidence. The threat of Voldemort breathing down his neck didn't seem to bother him in the least. And that bothered Harry.

"I find you more than attractive."

"Really?" Blaise murmured. "Am I an even match to you?"

"What the hell are you talking about, Blaise?"

"You're so beautiful, Harrison. You don't give yourself enough credit." Blaise scoffed. "I haven't seen the Dark Lord, but I heard he's handsome himself. Am I in league with you and him? Am I worthy enough to be with you?"

Harry reached forward and traced the boy's artistic face. "The Dark Lord isn't handsome. It's his mask. You know that. He's over sixty years old."

"But he has enough magic to keep his youthfulness."

"I'm not going to argue about this, Blaise. The Dark Lord is handsome, yes. But I don't look for superficial things when I get together with someone. Really, I'd thought you'd know me better than that." Harry breathed. "I just don't feel right being with you, Blaise. Not just because of the infidelity, but because he's going to kill you."

"Exactly," Blaise agreed. "He _is_ going to kill me as soon as he can get his hands on me. With that in mind, I figure why not just be together until he comes after me?"

"I'll protect you from him, Zabini." Harry murmured. "Don't think I won't defend you." The black boy remained quiet. "Why don't we go to the ball? I'm sure we can find something to do…"

He regretted his own words.

** -SSC— **

Harry played with his high collard jacket. It wasn't a tuxedo, like Draco's, more like a fancy sports jacket. "You look beautiful," Blaise breathed. "Shaggable." He reached out a hand and messed up Harry's hair. The smaller wizard glared.

"You don't look too bad yourself, Zabini." Blaise smirked, straightening his suit. Harry turned to look down the balcony at the party. Everyone was down there, drinking and talking. Blaise and he would have to go down the stairs in order to reach the party… in front of everyone. There was a side room next to the main dance floor. Inside, Harry knew where most the Hogwarts students were. They were having their 'own' little Christmas celebration, a celebration planned by Draco.

"Let's look for Narcissa and then we can make our way to the side room where the rest of the students are. I don't feel like chatting up old stiffs tonight."

Blaise laughed, agreeing. Harry leaned over the railing. He looked first for any lilac smelling men. There weren't any. But that didn't mean _he_ wasn't here tonight. It just meant that he wanted to stay hidden. Or maybe he really wasn't here.

"There she is, looking as gorgeous as ever…" there was a slight hesitant tone in Blaise's tone. Harry saw why just seconds later. She looked far too skinny and pale. Yes, she was strikingly pale normally, but she looked almost sickingly so. Her makeup probably hid most of the brunt of her appearance… "She kind of looks like you… I mean, with your weight and all-,"

Harry sighed, moving away from the balcony and making his way to the curving staircase. It was now or never. At least there was no servant, announcing his name like last time. They were far too late for that. Taking a deep breath, he all but ran down the stairs. Blaise chuckled after him, running just as fast. Harry grinned as he reached the bottom step. He was sure they weren't unseen, but at least they weren't the focal point.

He locked eyes with Lucius as he made his way toward Narcissa. Giving his father a cold stare, he turned his shoulder on the man, continuing on his way. Narcissa was dressed in a simple, but beautiful blue dress. It wasn't full, but hugged her delicate frame nicely. Her pale curls were pinned up, showing the curve of her neck.

She was sipping on champagne, facing away from him. He grinned, stopping behind her and kissing her neck. "Hello mother," he had to remind himself that Narcissa wasn't the one to blame for everything.

She turned around with a gasp, almost dropping her long stemmed glass. "Harrison, my _son,_ " she moaned, leaning down to kiss him on the corner of his mouth. "I've missed you so much." With one arm, she grabbed Harry around the waist, bringing him flush against her chest.

Harry felt guilt in his stomach. She looked horrible. To strangers, they would only see her beauty, but to him, he could see her unhealthy flaw. "Mother, you look horrible." He whispered, hugging her back. "Is everything alright?"

Tears clung to her lashes. "I've missed you," she said softly. "After what happened, I only could imagine you not coming back. Ever. And you never returned my owls…"

"I'm here now, mother, aren't I?" He tried to soothe her. Her thin frame seemed to shake in his arms.

"I'm so sorry, Harrison. I should have-,"

"Mother, please," Harry started, tightening his arms. "You knew it was wrong of him and you told him it was wrong. But you also played the part of a loyal wife. I understand your dilemma and I have come to terms with it. I don't blame you. Please, believe that. I don't blame you." He repeated.

"You're so thin-," She whispered. "Poor child, I could only imagine what you went through. I wish I could have been there with you." She sniffed and Harry remained still in her clutch. "But you're right, you're here now." She mourned, pulling away to stroke his hair. "Lets not dwell on the past tonight. Tonight, I'd like to dance with you before you go off with Mr. Zabini to Draco's party."

Harry flushed, looking at the dance floor. One thing he hated. Dancing with women who were taller than him. His mother was tall, probably just as tall as his father. He felt like a little boy. "Er,"

Her hand laid on his shoulder. "Please Harrison? Just this once." Her eyes pleaded and a gentle smile pulled at her lips. He was such a pushover…

"Alright," he held out his hand formally. "May I have this dance, my Lady?" Blaise snickered, leaning against the refreshment table, taking pleasure in watching. Narcissa placed her hand in her son's, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor.

The guests parted for mother and son, smiling at him as they passed. There were a couple of men and women on the floor already and the classical song had just ended. They seemed to take notice of the Lady of the house and the son, and chose to leave the dance floor, opening it up for just Narcissa and him. Harry all but groaned, feeling his cheeks grow warm as they stood in the middle of all the stares.

All by themselves.

He used his pureblood mannerisms to control his expression. His shoulders were stiff and his face was an emotionless mask. Narcissa settled into the same role, looking like a cold queen to the outside stares.

Lowering his eyes, he took a moment to compose himself before the music began. When he was younger, his parents drilled both he and Draco into the art of pureblood mannerisms and customs. And one of those traditions had to do with dancing. While Draco took a long while to teach, Narcissa claimed Harry was a natural born dancer. He was born with grace and agility. She often teased Lucius that Harry was the best dancer in the house.

Ever since then, Harry hadn't gotten the opportunity to really dance in front of others. Not like _this._ Not with the occupants watching him closely and not with the woman of grace.

When the music came on, Harry's eyes widened a fraction. Merlin, it was _their_ song. Narcissa and he always used to dance to it. It was a beautiful song, mostly slow in the beginning and slowly gaining in intensity. They had always enjoyed dancing to it, always bursting out in laughter when they were alone and finished.

She smiled at him knowingly.

Giving her a stiff bow at the waist, she curtsied back to him.

And then they met together.

She smiled at him as he took her hand in his and led her around the floor. "Pureblood's are so formal, Harrison, are they not?" Harry raised an eyebrow. Narcissa always scolded him not to 'talk' during a dance. It was impolite to both the art of dancing and the music- and it looked ridiculous to the viewers. "I thought you'd might come tonight, so I inquired after playing this song for the both of us."

"It's a very beautiful song, mother." Harry spun them quickly, grinning. "It carries a lot of memories."

She smiled, seemingly loosing her mask. "I wish we could have had more moments like this, Harrison. You're so grown up now; you don't need me any longer, do you?"

"I'll always need you." Harry tisked. "You're my mother."

She gave him a sad smile as they twisted their hands together and twirled. He loved the feeling of getting dizzy while dancing. His feet took over for him and he allowed the song to guide him. "You'll go far in life, Harrison." She said proudly, tiredly. "I am so very proud of you, remember that." Such fierceness in her eyes…

Harry frowned, feeling his mother apply more of her weight on him. "Mother-," he missed a step and he stumbled as she collapsed in his arms. Around him, the spectators gasped loudly. His legs shook as he tried to hold both of them up. Over her shoulder he locked eyes with Lucius. The man was grey as he hurried forward.

He didn't reach them in time.

Harry collapsed on the floor, cradling his mother's head gently. His body was shaking in fear and horror as he stared down at her slack face. This couldn't be happening… oh Merlin _no._ Harry gasped thickly, feeling dry sobs shudder his frame. Lucius fell to his knees, reaching around Harry to feel for a pulse. There was one; Harry could see it in her aura. It flickered lightly, barely even _there_.

Lucius turned to yell something at the guests, but Harry was deaf. Nothing was comprehensible as he stared at his mother's prone body on the floor. What happened? Why? Lucius turned to look at him, his eyes saddened. "Harrison," Harry began to breath heavily and quickly, not being able to get enough air in his lungs. Lucius reached for him and pulled back as he felt the brunt of Harry's Seer.

Pythia always said that when a Seer experienced such strong emotions, they unconsciously gave off those vibes to the people around them. Harry was sure they were all feeling his angst, his pain… Merlin. His _mother_ …

"Harrison, sweetie," arms pulled him from behind, trying to lift him from the floor. It was Pythia. She clutched his arms, his back to her chest. One of her hands splayed his Seer mark, sending soothing waves through him. It didn't work that way with a Seer to Seer. His emotions and hers clashed, making him slump in her arms. He felt numb. There were _no_ emotions. She picked him up, and Harry stood, his eyes dilated.

He watched through a veil as a Healer ran to Narcissa's side.

Nothing much mattered.

"Come; let's bring you away from here."

And she did. But Harry could hardly recollect anything after seeing his mother collapse.


	23. Your Presence Still Lingers Here

** Chapter Twenty Three: Your Presence Still Lingers Here **

"What's wrong with her?" Lucius jumped at the voice. He was sitting beside Narcissa's bed, clutching her cold hand in his. Behind him, Lord Voldemort stood in the doorway, observing. His red eyes seemed to be fiercer today as Lucius could feel them piercing his back.

"She has a disease, My Lord, the _Lewd_ disease." He replied numbly, staring at her motionless face. He felt the Dark Lord enter the room.

"The incest disease?" Voldemort inquired disgustedly. Lucius closed his eyes briefly.

"Her bloodlines were closely bred, My Lord. The Black family is notorious for interbreeding…" and with interbreeding, wizards resulted in the _Lewd_ disease at times. It was pure chance with whoever received the disease. Narcissa was unfortunate to receive the disease; she shouldn't have been punished for something her ancestors had done. Lucius bowed his head, holding her hand. She was the world to him, and now, now the disease took the upper hand.

"She had fought it most of her life, My Lord. The Healers said she'd survive and fight off the disease successfully. Over the course of this year, it's spread." It affected the immune system. It ate away at its hosts' body and magic. Eventually, the host would weaken and perish. Narcissa had been such a fighter…

"Have you gotten him tested?"

Him. Lucius should have known the Dark Lord wouldn't care much about Narcissa. The man had a one track mind when it came to his son. "At birth," Lucius murmured. "Neither he nor Draco had the disease then."

" _Then,"_ Voldemort hissed. "That was over sixteen years ago, Lucius. The _Lewd_ disease can develop in early years. Have you not tested them recently?" Lucius remained silent, stroking Narcissa's hand. "I want him tested."

"Yes My Lord."

The man came in further, looking down his nose at Narcissa. There was a slight curl to his lip as he studied her and crimson eyes were void of any emotion. "Her death will destroy him," he glanced across the room. Lucius glanced up, seeing the picture the Dark Lord was looking at. In the private chambers of their bedroom, Narcissa hung many pictures; pictures that showed emotion, not their pureblood masks to the public. There was one picture in particular that he, himself, always stood and stared at in wonder.

Harrison was being embraced from behind by his mother. On his face, was the largest smile Lucius had ever seen from his son. He was laughing, embracing his mother's arms, pulling her closer. Narcissa looked radiant as she lovingly nuzzled Harry's cheek.

"I know," Lucius rasped, feeling his throat constrict. He remembered seeing Harrison's expression as she collapsed. He'd never forget it.

"Does he know?"

"Yes, I told him earlier today." Lucius flashed the Dark Lord a bitter smile. "Of course he accused me of withholding the truth once again before running out. Somewhere…"

"Do you know where he went?" Lucius knew, without a doubt, that the Dark Lord would look for Harrison no matter what he said to try to convince him that the boy needed space.

"He just ran," Lucius ran a hand through his hair. "When he doesn't want to be found, he disappears successfully. He did that as a little boy, always hiding in the manor." He frowned, realizing that he needed sleep. He was speaking far too much to the Dark Lord. After the ritual, the man distanced himself from Lucius, easily treating him like scum. Now, now the Dark Lord seemed half way lenient. Perhaps it was because Harrison was no longer at Hogwarts and vulnerable to the Dark Lord… he didn't know. With the Dark Lord, he would _never_ know.

His spidery hand landed on Narcissa's forehead. "You know I'd help find a cure…"

"For him?" Lucius replied bitterly. "Not for her, but for him." The Dark Lord sneered at him and Lucius lowered his gaze. "I apologize."

"I think you know the answer to your own question, Lucius. If I could cure his mother, I would. It is far too late for that, alas. You should have come to me earlier." Voldemort gave Narcissa one last sweeping gaze before he turned his heel and left the room.

"Remember to get him tested, Lucius."

** -SSC- **

"Er, Harry?" Neville questioned, opening his door. Harry gave him a small smile. How could he give a big one when he felt so empty? "Come in, I heard about your mother. Merlin, I'm so sorry. Is she alright?"

She was dying. She hadn't woken up since the night of the collapse, which happened to be two days ago. His father told him it was an interbreed disease… they had kept it from Draco and him all this time. She thought she had been strong enough to survive with it inside her. How wrong she was.

He felt his throat constrict. Tears had not fallen yet. Not when there was still hope.

Narcissa was strong enough. She'd live.

Harry knew that.

"Actually," Harry whispered, looking past Neville's shoulder inside the house. "That's why I came here. I mean… if it's too much trouble I can always talk to you later. I just needed someone-," he started rambling. It was all for show, of course. Today, this _minute_ was what it came down to. He had to manipulate Neville in a few hours. He needed to. Originally, he had wanted to extend his playing with the Golden Trio for the rest of the school year. But current issues made him rethink his plan.

He needed to get busy. And with his mother ill, why not take his mind elsewhere?

"Ah, no, Harry, please, come in." Neville stammered as he opened the door wider and stepped aside. "Gran is sleeping. She'd love to meet you but-,"

"It's alright," Harry whispered. He took a deep breath. His Seer reached out and gently stroked Neville, the boy subconsciously shifted closer. "How are you doing? I mean, with Ron's death and all." Again, he took away the grief and loss he saw in Neville and replaced it with hope and brightness.

Neville's shoulders relaxed as he motioned Harry up the stairs. "It's hard. I mean, Ron was my best mate and all…" Harry sneered at the boy's back once he turned around. "He was everything to me. We shared everything."

The Longbottom manor wasn't anything spectacular. It would never be able to hold a flame to the Malfoy manor. The color scheme was warm, with crimsons and…egh…was that _gold_? Gryffindor colors? Pathetic. Horribly, pathetic. This was the home of the boy-who-lived and his grandmother, nothing extravagant. "Yeah, I saw as much." Harry remarked, turning the corner with Neville.

The Gryffindor brought him to his bedroom and Harry tried to repress a smirk. "I'm sorry," Neville grinned sheepishly. "Would you like anything to eat or drink? I know it's late but I could get you something." _What, no house elves?_

"I'm fine, thank you." Harry pulled at his sleeves, looking around the boy's room. There was all but a shrine of all his _friends_. Harry felt his lip curl as he stared at all the photos, looking in particular, at the Golden Trio. My…wasn't Longbottom popular.

Neville took a step closer, instantly telling Harry that he was 'ready'. Green eyes flashed up at the boy-who-lived's face, studying him. Harry reached out and brushed back Neville's hair. "You know, I envy you." Harry whispered, swallowing his bile. Neville flushed, ready to protest…which he should, but Harry interrupted. "You're powerful, you're smart, you're kind and generous… you have a heart of gold."

He turned away from Neville, looking ashamed.

"Hey, Harry, don't talk like that. You're just as much as those things as I am." Neville stepped closer to Harry.

"No I'm not," Harry murmured. "I'm the reason my mother is ill." He allowed Neville's hesitant hands to rest on his shoulders. Merlin. This was difficult…the touching…the lying… but he was proud of himself. This was his first manipulation, his first puppet. "I'm so selfish, it just… it's all a mess."

"What are you talking about?"

"You wouldn't understand, Neville. I was stupid for coming here."

"I can help you, Harry." Of course he could. He had a hero complex, after all; foolish Gryffindor, that was one of his biggest weaknesses. "Whatever you need, I can help you."

Harry turned and sat on the edge of the bed. He played with the silence and felt the mattress dip as Longbottom sat down next to him. "My mother was attacked by the Dark Lord." Neville gave a mysterious noise in his chest. Probably confusion, after all, weren't the Malfoy's notorious for following the Dark Lord? "You might think, or have heard that Lucius is a Death Eater…" Harry started, feeling his stomach jump in anticipation.

"I might have heard that somewhere." Neville started off a little hesitantly.

Harry rotated his body around and stared straight into the boy's eyes. Neville was vulnerable right now, with his friend's death. If Harry weren't a Seer, he wouldn't know if his plan would work or not, but now, with both Neville's loss and his Seer, he knew he had the boy on his hook. Longbottom wasn't exactly known for being smart, even if he was, he was no match for Harry's manipulations and Seer combined.

"Well, he is a Death Eater." Neville stiffened. "My mother, brother, and I were disappointed to learn that he bore the mark. But we were even more disappointed when he agreed to give Voldemort both of us. Draco and I."

His fingers played with the package in his pocket. "Draco and I didn't want to become Death Eaters. And my mother, my sweet mother," he broke off, looking at the ceiling. "She tried protecting us. She succeeded, but my brother didn't get away unscratched. You saw his burns the other day, didn't you?"

Neville grimaced, looking horrified. "You're serious?"

"Of course I am," Harry said a little bit too harshly. He soothed Neville's restless emotions. "He barely made it alive. I got away because of my power… but my mother was cursed by the Dark Lord. She's struggling with a certain…hex he gave her that day." Harry looked down, shaking his head. "I don't know if she'll make it."

"Merlin, Harry…"

Harry looked up at Neville, pouring in trust and pity. "I've talked with Dumbledore on some manners, Neville." He played with the package in his pocket and took it out. It was wrapped in tissue and without touching the object inside; he spread the tissue and showed it to Neville.

The boy jumped backward, breathing heavily. "The Slytherin locket! Where did you _get_ this?" _The Dark Lord gave it to me…_

"My father-," he stuttered on purpose. "My father had it. I stole it from him." He stared down at the glittering emeralds, feeling drawn in. "You know the meetings that Dumbledore and I have been having? I'm sure you've taken notice of our get-togethers, Neville." He saw jealousy in Neville and had to hide a smile. The boy was so easy… Merlin.

"Yes," Neville strangled out, his eyes never leaving the locket.

"He's told me all about the Horcruxes…and in return, I told him about my family situation. He's also told me that he's been teaching you about Riddle's history…his Horcruxes in particular." _Not really, I've just Seen their meetings._

"He's told you all that?" Neville seemed shocked, but he was slowly warming up to Harry on his own. After all, he was an idiot. Neville wouldn't think, for one moment, that Harry Saw it in a vision. He thought that if Harry knew Dumbledore's and his secrets, he could be trusted.

"Yes," Harry motioned to the locket. "He's been out hunting for the other Horcruxes…and he's still out there, Neville. He's shared with me the Prophecy regarding both you and the Dark Lord."

Longbottom's eyes bugged out. "Really? You know-,"

'That you are the only one who can defeat the Dark Lord," Harry whispered huskily. His heart was pounding and the taste of victory tasted _so_ close… Merlin. He was close. Just a few more steps, a few more pulls… and his puppet would be complete. "That's why I brought you _this._ " Neville stared at the locket. "This will be the last Horcrux. Well, that and the Dark Lord himself and his snake…"

"What do you want me to do," Neville set his jaw. "I want that bastard gone." Pity the 'bastard' wanted to keep _this idiot_ alive…

Harry gave a thin smile, yanking the locket away as Neville reached for it. "Not yet, you can't _touch_ it yet, Neville. You see, I've spent a long time studying the affects of hexes. I've charmed this locket so that when someone touches it, the curse will eat away their magic. They'll be weakened considerably…" He slowly put it closer to Neville's face. The boy leaned backward, away from it. "That's why I'll be giving you a box to carry it in. You'll deliver it to the Dark Lord yourself, in disguise of course…"

"What?" Neville paled. "You want _me_ to _deliver_ it to him?"

Harry frowned sadly, batting his eyelashes in a lazy manner. Neville flushed in lust, looking away to gather himself. "You will be dressed up in a Death Eater's robes. I have a set just for you, actually. Once you get inside the Dark Lord's hideout, you'll request to _anyone_ that stops you that you have a package from Harrison Malfoy to the Dark Lord. And if they try to take it from you, tell them it's a private matter between Harrison Malfoy and the Dark Lord." Harry repeated. "They will leave you alone; I have no doubt about that."

"They won't be suspicious?" Neville asked, confused. "I thought you were a traitor-,"

Harry sighed, looking ashamed. "The Dark Lord has a _thing_ for me…if you will." Neville looked clueless. Foolish…. _Idiot!_ "He takes on bed partners, Neville. He raped me…." He ran his free hand up and down his arm, looking sick. "He wants to keep me as a _pet_. Merlin, Neville, I feel so dirty."

He faked a tear, allowing it to run down his cheek. "If I could be in your position, I would." He said fiercely. "I want to be the one delivering _it_ to him…"

"Bloody hell," Neville whispered. Harry felt his disgust and pity. This was perfect, _he_ was perfect. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I never knew things like that happened…" Of course he didn't. Harry sneered mentally. Neville was far too sheltered for his own good.

Longbottom reached out to caress Harry's shoulder. "Tell me what the rest of the plan is, Harry. I'll do whatever it takes to bring him down."

Good.

"Nothing really is too difficult. Once you arrive near the Dark Lord, you'll tell him your have a delivery from me. Naturally, he'll take it. And when he opens it and touches the locket with his bare hands, he'll become weakened incredibly and that's your time to strike. I'll give you the Gryffindor sword, Neville. And you _stab_ that bastard, you understand? Stab him, the locket, and the snake if it's by him."

Neville looked flabbergasted. "Will the locket really weaken him?" Green eyes flashed. Again, he poured trust and determination into the boy.

"Do you doubt me? Dumbledore approved of the hex… you know his gloved hand? I'm sure you've seen it tarnished." Neville nodded, grimacing at the memory. "It's because he touched the Gaunt Ring. It had the same hex on it that I put on this locket. Dumbledore barely survived and the Dark Lord will be just the same. He'll be weakened entirely." Harry motioned the locket closer to the boy. "Would you like to try it out?"

"No," Neville was green. "I believe you and Dumbledore." He paused. "But I don't have the Gryffindor sword, that's in Dumbledore's office."

"Neville," Harry tisked. "Don't you think he knows about this plan? When I visit him tonight, he'll ask me what your answer is. When I tell him you're all for it, he'll give me the Gryffindor sword." Longbottom nodded. "Good, now," Harry placed the locket back in the tissue and in his robe pocket. "I'll be giving you a port key, just in case things don't work out the way they should." Neville looked relieved.

"Ok, good," he smiled at Harry and Harry smiled back. He leaned forward. "I want this to work out, Harry. For the wizarding world and for you. We both have suffered so much from him… I would like to make it better. You suffered so much silently. Will you open up to me after all this? Can we be friends? Or…maybe more?" He leaned closer and Harry swallowed, feeling the boy's soft lips touch his own.

Neville was far too…soft. And not silky velvety smooth, soft- it was a…mushy and far too… blubbery. Harry gave a shocked moan as Neville pushed him back harshly on the bed, their lips still connected together. Harry supposed Neville's own desperation and Harry's Seer influence was making the boy far more confident. That, plus the boy probably thought he was going on a live saving mission, and decided to… do things he's always wanted to do.

And to make matters even more awkward, Harry could feel Riddle's soul inside Neville purring in excitement.

"You're so…beautiful…" Neville growled huskily. "I've never seen a boy as handsome as you." His hands roamed Harry's thin waist and hips, tugging on the pants.

Merlin, this was happening, wasn't it? This wasn't a nightmare.

His hands pushed at Neville's chest, pushing his leech-like lips off him. "I can't do this right now, Neville. With my mother and all-,"

"Oh Merlin, I'm such a git, I'm sorry." Neville was red in the face as he scrambled off Harry. "After all you've been through- I'm a git."

Harry sighed in annoyance. It was time for him to leave. Longbottom was getting on his last nerves. "It's alright, Neville." Harry grinned at the boy, brushing his fingers across the sensitive neck. "Next time we do that, we'll have to position ourselves the _right_ way." Neville frowned in confusion.

Egh, stupid boy.

"I'm a top, love." He explained further.

Neville's eyes widened as he looked at Harry's small frame up and down. "Really?" he squeaked. Longbottom's cheeks grew red. "Sorry," he looked away at Harry's glower. "I just feel so…connected with you, you know? Its weird, I only feel comfortable around you since Ron's death." Neville looked down at his lap.

"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Harry turned the conversation around. "We can always postpone it." _No, we can't._

"No, no," Neville shook his head furiously. "It's my burden to carry. I'm the one that is destined to kill Voldemort. It's time I face it." He looked uncomfortable. "Harry?" Having stood up, Harry raised an eyebrow, looking down at the boy. "After everything, I was wondering if you and I could…further our…relationship? I've never been with a boy and I never thought I'd want to be. But with you, it feels so _right_."

Harry smiled sweetly, inside, he was spitting with disgust. "Of course, Neville, I'll show you a few things that I'm sure you'll enjoy." He leaned forward and caressed his lips to the boy's. Immediately, Riddle spiked, reaching out to him possessively. And Harry knew, as soon as Neville shot out his hands to grab hold of his face, that Riddle was taking over.

He pulled back, eyes widening as he saw crimson eyes staring out at him. It wasn't the Voldemort he knew, no, this was a younger soul of Riddle. "Beautiful," Neville whispered with Riddle, grinning.

Red eyes melted into blue once Harry pulled away further. Disturbing. It had to be because they were Matches. Riddle's soul inside Longbottom awakened when it was around Harry. It recognized him as his Match, his only one to match in power. Harry slightly preferred the younger spirit of Riddle to the older. It _recognized_ him as an equal.

He cleared his throat, pulling at his sleeves. Neville was breathless and aroused, slumping on the bed. "I'll see you shortly, Neville. Then I'll give you the Death Eater robes, the sword, and the box containing the locket." He smiled at the boy. "Good luck, love."

"Thanks…" Neville slurred.

Now… on to phase two of four.

** -SSC- **

"It's rather late, Harrison. Is there something a matter?" Dumbledore opened the door to his rooms. The office was darkened, only a small candle lit the shadows.

"Yes, Headmaster, something is very wrong." Harry walked inside the office, looking around. His eyes landed on the Gryffindor sword. It glimmered in the glass case. "If I could have a moment of your time, sir?" His fingers dipped under his collar and played with the gold chain.

With pleasure, he watched the Headmaster's eyes follow the motion, darkening. "Is it your mother? You'd you like to talk about her?"

"My mother is getting much better, thank you." He replied easily, sitting down on one of the chairs uninvitingly. Dumbledore and him had many close conversations ever since the ritual ended and Harry planned his revenge. The conversations were always forced, fake- on both ends. But…what could he do? He couldn't exactly _force_ himself on Dumbledore. The man had solid Occlumency shields. Even his Seer had trouble penetrating through them.

"Is she?" Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, coming to stand against his desk. Interesting. He wasn't sitting. It looked as if Dumbledore had feel for his bait. "The last I heard she-,"

"She's fine," Harry said, believing it himself. She was. Merlin, she was a strong witch. A _disease_ couldn't bring her down so easily. "Actually, I would like to talk to you about Neville." He pulled at the chain around his neck again, smirking as Dumbledore watched him once again. "I just…I'm disappointed, really. I wanted to enjoy him a little bit longer, but it seems as if my time is up."

Blue eyes hardened and narrowed. "What are you speaking of?" Dumbledore straightened up.

"Neville and I came up with a plan to bring down Tom Riddle." Harry looked down at his finger tangled up in the chain and sheepishly dropped it under his clothes again. "Is Neville like a grandson to you, Headmaster?" Harry drawled sweetly, green eyes all but glowing.

"You're just like _him_ ," Dumbledore spoke fiercely, his aura growing. "You two are the same person, the same monster. What did you do to Neville?"

"I didn't do anything to him," Harry drawled. "I just configured a plan that would help him defeat the Dark Lord. Just what you wanted, right? I thought you wanted him to be the hero, to be the all powerful hero…" Harry trailed off, smirking up at the old man. "He's going to visit the Dark Lord tomorrow. His head is so big…"

Dumbledore's magic lashed out and struck at Harry. His small frame was pasted rigidly to the chair, unable to move anything but his eyes. His heart rate accelerated and Dumbledore took an advancing step forward. He watched as gnarled fingers grabbed the locket around his neck and yanked it off him. "n..no…" Harry breathed, wheezing through Dumbledore's spell. The man looked down, frowning at him with the locket in his grasp.

"As I said earlier, Harrison, you and Tom are very much alike," Dumbledore strolled around his desk, carrying the Slytherin locket in his fingers. He looked up gravely at the frozen Harry. "Both of you are so very arrogant."

Harry glared, watching as the man grabbed the Gryffindor sword from the glass case. Merlin…he _was_ going to do it….

"After I destroy the Horcrux, you'll be taken into custody. I'm afraid I cannot trust you any longer." Dumbledore placed the locket on the desk. Harry's eyes widened as he watched Dumbledore pull back the sword. "It's a pity we'll be loosing you; you are a very strong wizard."

And with that, he brought down the sword and pierced the locket.

It screamed and Harry screamed.

And then he grinned as the hold Dumbledore's magic had on him vanished. He watched through hungry eyes as Dumbledore gasped, holding his gloved hand to his chest. The hand curled around the sword shakily let go of the hilt.

Standing up from the chair, Harry cracked his neck, taking a step forward. "And you, Headmaster, are so _predictable._ " Harry looked down at the destroyed locket and then at Dumbledore. "You see, Headmaster, that wasn't the real Horcrux, it was a faux." The old man coughed up blood, his eyes wide and pained. "I knew you would stab me in the back the moment you could and take the Horcrux. I knew you saw it as soon as he gave it to me." Harry tisked, grinning. "Six years ago… at the young age of eleven. You saw the Horcrux around me. And ever since then, you've tried to come up with ways to manipulate me…"

Dumbledore slumped to the floor behind his desk, shuddering and wheezing. The blood coming out from his mouth stained his beard and dripped to the floor in sweet droplets. Harry paused by the Gryffindor sword, considering it. Taking out a glove from his cloak, he pulled it on and touched the hilt of the sword. It was warm, but not as warm as it would have been if he didn't have a glove on.

"Look at that," Harry breathed, holding up the sword. "A Slytherin using the Gryffindor sword, ironic, isn't it?" He looked down at Dumbledore. The man was suffering from the project Harry had slaved away with for the past few weeks. It was utterly dark and powerful. It had taken him a lot of his energy and power creating it. But he succeeded. On the outside, it gave off dark vibes, vibes that were very similar to a Horcrux.

And whoever attempted to destroy it, was destroyed from the inside _out_. Even the sword of Gryffindor couldn't yield to the results. Harry was very proud of his creation. Voldemort hadn't even thought of it…

"You know what would be even _more_ ironic, Albus?" Harry whispered softly. "If a Gryffindor _died_ by the Gryffindor sword." Harry's mouth twisted as he watched Dumbledore's magic struggle to help him out. It was ineffective, of course.

"You will…you'll loose. Just like _him_."

"You compare Tom and I together, Dumbledore… as if you didn't know we _were_ almost exact replicas of each other." Harry gave a dark chuckle. "We are a like, yes. And we will succeed… pity you were already dying anyway. But I suppose I can take partial credit."

"You silly…child…" Dumbledore smiled through bloody teeth. "Death is yet the next great adventure." Harry lost his smile, grimacing. Pythia had said that… "And that's why you are alike him… so cowardly of death…"

Harry tipped back his head and laughed, clutching the sword tighter. "Ah, that's where _you're_ wrong, old fool. I am not afraid of death. In fact, I'm welcoming it at this point in my life. You think you're all high and _mighty…_ " Harry spat, feeling rage clutch his chest.

"You are nothing but a _child_ …" Child.

Child.

Dumbledore prodded and pushed…

And Harry growled. "I am not _a child_." He raised the sword and brought it down on Dumbledore's chest. The man shuddered as the sword sliced through his body and connecting to the wood floor below him.

The man jerked once more, his magic spitting across the room.

And then he was no more.

Harry breathed heavily, his face splattered with crimson droplets from his enemy. "And revenge never tasted so good…" Harry's hands shook as they took the sword out of the old fool's body. With his magic, he froze the portraits in place. They would never be able to speak a word about this to anyway. Not until Harry unfroze them himself.

Looking at the blood covered sword and the body, Harry took a deep breath, calming himself. It was his second murder. He didn't know what he felt as he stared down at the lifeless eyes of Dumbledore. Seeing the body… it wasn't as satisfying as it had been when he was getting his revenge. He felt some guilt over what he did and he supposed that should be normal. He didn't want to become a cold blooded killer.

But he did want to extract revenge to those that had wronged him.

If he kept by that personal moral, he supposed he wouldn't turn into something that he would be ashamed of. He would never kill out of cold blood. There had to be a reason why or else he wouldn't commit that murder. Assassins stuck by that code of honor. They only killed those that had committed crimes or who deserved the killings…

Harry shook himself, taking a deep breath.

He needed to keep going. His plan wasn't finished yet.

** -SSC- **

Snape played with the Death Eater mask as he strode toward the exit of the castle. The halls were empty and dark, reminding him that it was the Holidays. He was being summoned for reasons unknown. The Dark Lord usually never called this late at night.

"You once told me Professor…" Severus halted, his eyes widening as he caught sight of Harrison Malfoy sitting so calmly on a bench, out looking the grounds. The moonlight played on a blade he held in his hand. The metallic glimmered, almost blinding him.

"You once told me that 'as long as I kept up my studies and push myself magically, I won't need to 'fit in'." Harry whispered. Snape tensed, pausing. "You said people will be following me at my heels and _begging_ me to pay attention to them."

Silence.

"I will never forget that." Harry smiled wistfully into the moon. Snape watched as his fingers caressed the sword's hilt, twirling the point on the floor. "You said that to me when I felt as if I were no one. I was young and foolish and didn't take your words to heart. But now, as I sit here, I think back to how right you were." Snape watched as Harrison stood up, looking a little worse for wear in the moonlight.

"Because you picked me up when I was down, I will return the favor to you." Harry started walking away. Snape could only stare as the boy made his way further down the hall. "Don't go to the meeting tonight, Severus. Not unless you're ready to be tortured to death. Go back into your rooms and think long and hard on your alliance."

Goose bumps ran the lengths of his arms as Harrison murmured his last words.

Looking down at his mask, he frowned.

** -SSC- **

_ He was clutching her hand, shaking. _

Lord Voldemort turned in his sleep, frowning.

_ And then he was no longer in his body, but watching from the outside as his Match buried his face into her lifeless body. Around him, Lucius Malfoy and Draco Malfoy stood, their faces heavy with loss. Around him, the room crackled with raw magic, freezing the bedposts and the picture frames. The room was heavy with sorrow and he felt drowned in it. _

_ Harrison lifted his head, a face absent of tears as they stared at his dead mother. _

And then Voldemort sat up in bed, gathering his cloak and leaving the room in one motion. Before he disapparated, he touched his fingers to his cheek. Frowning, he pulled it back, staring at the wet moisture.

Tears.

His Match had made him cry.

Grimacing at the thought, he hurried down the corridor.

As much as he may want to avoid these emotions, Harrison was subconsciously calling for him. And he knew he couldn't ignore the call.


	24. Suppressed By All My Childish Fears

** Chapter Twenty Four: Suppressed By All My Childish Fears **

"Where is he?" he demanded, hurrying into the room. He eyed the empty bed. "When did she pass away?" Lucius stood stiffly on the other side of the room, looking out the window. The man's pale blonde hair was limp, falling to the middle of his shoulders. _"Lucius."_ He hissed into the silence.

"Last night, a bit before midnight, My Lord." The sun was rising. "The funeral is in a few hours. Perhaps you can look for him there."

Voldemort stood still; eyeing his servant's turned back. The vision he had, it must have been delayed. Narcissa Malfoy was gone and with her, her two sons, leaving only her grieving husband. And grieving, he was. He didn't need his Match here to see the stark grief Lucius held. "Or maybe…" Lucius drowned on. "He may be in his room. You can look there." The words were bland, no emotion.

Voldemort paused in the doorway, debating on what he should respond with. Scolding for not treating him with respect? Or worse, a _condolence_? He sneered, turning his heel and walking away. He didn't deal well with emotions. Why sympathize for someone whom didn't serve him as a valuable asset? Narcissa Malfoy was a strong woman, one that he used to get through to Harrison, but she wasn't worth his grief.

Vaguely, he remembered the direction of Harrison's room. If he hadn't remembered, he used the muffled music as guidance. His nostrils flared as he inhaled the smell of lilacs growing closer. So the boy was here. Surprising… He had tried to find him last night when he heard about Malfoy's disease and he had been unsuccessful. Either the boy was so lost and broken that he didn't want to run any longer, or perhaps, he wanted to be found.

His footsteps were silent, not that it mattered. The room directly down the hall was open, spilling out both the rising sunlight and the music he had heard from downstairs. He eyed the blonde child sitting outside the open door. Lucius' brat looked up, his face crested with tears. "And why aren't you inside with your brother?" Voldemort murmured, standing at his full height before the sitting blonde.

Draco frowned, looking down in both respect and submission. "His emotions are haywire…as is his magic. I can't be around him now, My Lord."

The Dark Lord looked inside Harrison's room. A bed lay upon a slightly raised platform, looking messy, but that was the only thing disorganized about the room. The floors were a white marble, the walls were a deep navy and the furniture looked a deep oak. He eyed the clothes strewn all over the floor. It was a set of Hogwarts robes. The Slytherin tie lay innocently on the bedpost, fluttering lightly from the wide open bay window.

Against the wall, a record player stood, its needle spilling out an elegant, classical tune. Crimson eyes drank in the rotating disk as the song ended. He sensed the magic around the table, and with a ghostly hand, the needle went back on track, playing the same song once again- if not a louder. He remembered it from the night before. The one Harrison and his mother had danced to before she collapsed in his arms.

Lips thinning, he looked back down at the blonde boy. He eyed the tears, feeling his stomach revolt. It was pathetic…and what was even worse- was his Match was probably worse off. Could he go in there and handle the raw emotion? Or would he be a weak fool and turn away?

Snapping his cloak around him, he glided through the door. He eyed the open window, stepping closer to the fluttering curtains. Thin and long fingers curled around the window sill as he looked out. As he suspected, his Match was on the roof.

For a moment, he felt his chest constrict in both pleasure and… something unknown to him. With an obsessive stare, he studied Harrison. Never before had he seen such a beautiful and corrupt sight. The boy was broken, yet he thought him beautiful. It was wrong of him, he knew, even with his twisted morals, that seeing a broken beauty such as Harrison wasn't right. But he was beautiful.

The boy was in nothing but a tight black shirt and muggle jeans. His bare feet were curled against the roof, looking frightfully cold and pink. The sun danced across his pale face, highlighting the strict and stunning lines of his cheekbones and jaw. The random loose black curls had grown out slightly, falling into his eyes and around his face in a dark halo. There weren't any lyrics to the song playing on the record, but the sinful lips parted and sang the words.

And Voldemort knew he'd never heard anything more angelic before in his life.

He ducked back into the room, calming both himself and his racing heart. His heart _didn't_ race for anything but gore and murder. It was impossible that a tiny, petite little boy could cause such an affect on him.

His hands were shaking as he ran them through his long hair. Harrison Malfoy was stunning, he knew that. Everyone knew as such. But it shouldn't cause such a reaction. He shouldn't think of something as _angelic._ His eyes rose and caught sight of the blonde brat looking inside the room in a curious sort of manner. Voldemort lifted his lip in a sneer. The boy paled significantly and hurriedly peeked back around the corner, out of sight.

Growling lowly, he gathered both himself and his Legilimency shield, and climbed out of the window.

The boy was humming gently now and Voldemort caught sight of a brandy bottle. Harrison gave a noise, sounding halfway as a sob and a laugh and took a gulp out of the bottle. "Drinking your sorrows away never helps, little one."

Harry gave a grunt, already seemingly aware of his presence before he appeared. "I figure, if I can numb myself with enough time before-," he cut himself off and shrugged. "I just need a little _buzz_ , if you know what I mean." The boy was clearly drunk.

"You look horrible," he lied.

"You don't look too bad yourself, kid." Harrison motioned with the bottle, thrusting it in Voldemort's face. "You want a sip?"

Voldemort sneered as he took in the drunken boy with narrowed eyes. Taking the bottle from the outstretched hand, he took a swig, making sure to caress the outer ridge with his tongue to taste the essence of his sweet. His throat burned as it went down, but he was well used to it with his many years of drinking. Giving Harrison a long glance, he took the bottle by the neck and threw it down, off the roof.

"I think you've had enough. You're underage, anyway." Harry gave a moan, looking over the roof at the smashed bottle of brandy.

"You bastard," Harry spat. He wiped his mouth with his arm, causing Voldemort to give him a grimace of disgust.

"I've been called much worse." He sat down next to his Match, looking out into the rising sun. How…precious. "Would you like to talk?" He murmured uncertainly. He sounded pathetic.

"Talk, talk, talk…" Harrison slurred back, holding out his hands and squinting at them as if he trouble seeing them straight. "I feel like shit," he gave a hiccup. Voldemort gave a hiss of displeasure and stood up, intent to leave. The boy had his comfort blanket in the arms of liquor. He wasted much needed work time for nothing.

Just as he took a step to the open window, a hand clutched his robes, holding him back. He looked down and locked eyes with somber green. "I apologize," Harrison breathed. "I'm not really drunk. I just feel better if I put my efforts into something away from _her._ " The boy sat back against the slanted roof, leaning on his elbows. "I'm sure you have no idea what I'm feeling, do you?"

He thought back to the dream, remembering the feeling of intense loss. "I think I have a pretty good idea," he drawled, sitting back down gracefully. He knew what was coming up next in their discussion. Had he thought sixteen years ago that he would be comforting someone over the loss of their mother; he would have made at least a dozen more Horcruxes. "You _loved_ her," he shuddered inwardly. "She was the only solid figure in your life."

Harrison bowed his head, his lips deepening into a frown. "She was the only one I could trust," Brilliant green eyes lured him in. "She was the only one I could turn to because I knew she wouldn't stab me in the back if I opened up to her. I could be vulnerable around her and she would still be proud of me." Harry scoffed, looking away. "You wouldn't know what that feels like, Tom."

He sneered at the name but remained quiet on that aspect. "Look at you," he started; motioning toward Harry's devastated face expression. "You're pathetically lost and in pain. Why would you put yourself through that? It's better to keep your distance, it's better not to get attached to anyone, because they're going to leave you eventually."

Harrison took a deep breath and leaned forward. Voldemort eyed the ribs and spine poking through the shirt in displeasure.

"You know, Tom… I was thinking the exact same thing." He whispered. "But I've been sitting on this roof, realizing how wrong that is."

Voldemort frowned, raising his eyebrows. "Oh really? And why is that?" He asked curiously. And for the first time, in a long time, he _listened._ Perhaps this little devil child was getting to him, but nonetheless, he decided to give the boy a benefit of the doubt.

"It's fun to play games," Harrison started. "It's exciting and thrilling to be deceitful and Slytherin. Playing with your enemies is exhilarating… and knowing you have to look over your shoulder is exciting at times as well." The boy frowned, looking over at him. "But you know what's even better?"

Pursing his lips, Voldemort cocked his head. "What?"

"Knowing that you have a safe zone from that game we call life." Harrison's face crumbled, looking as if he were going to cry. "Coming home to that one person and putting your game on pause…there is nothing better than that, Tom. Being with that trusted zone you call your loved one is the best part of life. You know you can turn your back and be vulnerable around them without feeling the sharp pain of a knife in your spine…"

Voldemort frowned as he watched the boy rub his palms against his face. "She was everything to me, you know…." He snorted, looking up from his hands at the sky. "And I'm babbling around you of all people, the emotionless statue."

He contemplated on the boy's words, realizing that it made sense. "Trust like that is hard to come by," he continued the conversation to where the boy left off.

"It is," Harrison nodded. "Especially when you place your trust in someone's hands and they decide to hurt you as you turn your back." Harrison gave him a pointed stare and stood up.

Ah, yes, the ritual involving his brother. Voldemort gave a soft sigh watching as the boy made his way back to the window. No matter how hard he tried to be apologetic about the ritual, he couldn't be. It was in the past and he learned from his mistake. If he had a chance to do it again, he probably wouldn't, not when he knew how much family meant to his Match. But he would never admit that out loud. He only hoped he could some how show the boy he could place his trust in him again. With actions…

"You really are trying, aren't you?" Harrison's voice snapped him out of his contemplating. He looked over lazily and raised an eyebrow.

"You have no idea." Voldemort drawled, smirking.

Harry's mouth twisted into a smile, a smile that looked far away. "I wrote you a letter, you know. With your gift. A part of me wants to rewrite the letter again and rethink my plans… but…" Harrison trailed off, looking out on the Malfoy grounds. "But I can't handle these emotions right now. I'm far too vulnerable at the moment. My plan needs to be followed through." Green eyes looked back at him and Voldemort frowned. What was the boy _thinking_?

"I want to thank you, Tom, for coming to me. But I think its time for you to go back to your hideout and gather your gift."

With that, the boy dipped off the roof and back into the room.

Voldemort stared out into the rising sunrise, contemplating the many things his Match said. When he thought he knew it all, new issues just kept…sprouting up, changing his perspective of things, even if he struggled against it.

** -SSC- **

"My Lord," a Death Eater outside his home drop to his knees. "There was a messenger here for you; he claims he has something from a Harrison Malfoy." The man shuddered as Voldemort placed a hand on his head.

"And where did you send this messenger?"

"In your throne room, My Lord. He's waiting for you there." Just like Harrison promised. Voldemort patted the head and swept off, curiosity licking at his stomach. Narcissa Malfoy's funeral was beginning and he had no desire to attend. He'd already tried his hand at comforting the boy, and it appeared as if Harrison would need something far more than he could give him.

Slamming the doors open, he strolled in, glancing at the hunched over figure near his throne. A lipless smile crossed his lips as he sat down, crossing his legs. The figure looked up at him and then back down. A Death Eater? "Who are you?" Voldemort murmured softly.

"I am here in the name of Harrison Malfoy," the boy was nervous, he could hear it in the way his voice shook. The figure raised a brown box, tied together with a green ribbon. Disappointed, Voldemort leaned forward and snatched the box from the boy. What kind of gift could fit in here that his Match claimed was better than Harrison himself? There was _nothing_.

Giving the shivering messenger a disgusted look, he pulled at the ribbon, watching as the silky emerald material fell to the ground. He breathed deeply as he opened the lid, looking inside. There was a cream envelope on top of the tissue paper. On the envelope, Harrison's elegant writing splashed his name in gold. He took the letter first, hearing the boy at his feet give a rather loud intake of air. It was a rather thick letter, one he wasn't looking forward to.

With a sharp nail, he broke the Malfoy crest and pulled out the letter.

_ Tom Riddle, _

_ I hope this letter got to you alright. Believe it or not, I was a little hesitant to write this. Actually, I was more hesitant to send it with the delivery man than to write it. I've had this letter revised and redrafted for over a good few months now. This is the only way I can bring my message across to you without going off into an argument. You may even find it surprising that I'm actually writing to you, considering I've been avoiding you ever since that night of the _ Sadistic _Ritual. But there are a few things I need to say to you and what better way to get my point across without your infuriating interruptions?_

_ You see, Tom, as much as you'd like to deny it- or forget it- I have Seen your past, present, and future. I, almost as much as yourself, know who you are, what makes you…well, you. There is nothing to hide from me. I see all your imperfections and I see all of your perfections. _

_ You're a powerful wizard. I don't really know how powerful yet, because I haven't seen your full potential, but everyday I find myself longing to be around you, to taste and feel your magic. Odd, isn't it? How I crave to be around your magic when mine and yours are an exact replica? And you're handsome in every way. And you're brilliantly smart when it comes to logical and magical theory. _

_ Though your imperfections are what drives me away. Countless of times, I've asked you, _ pleaded _with you to see me as your_ equal. _It has almost been a year now and I still feel belittled by you. You have yet to apologize to me about my brother's near death experience and for lying to me so entirely. I am a Seer, Tom. You are a cold shell. We don't merge well…_

_ We were never meant to be in a romantic relationship. If you could even call it that. You've slept with countless of men and women before me, I'm sure you can get by without me. That's all you wanted from me, wasn't it? Think of it as a positive for both of us. I, can no longer stomach your lies and betrayal, and you, you my dear Dark Lord, don't have to change yourself and your nonexistent emotions. _

_ You want to know the difference between us? I never go back on my word. Remember that night, during my birthday, you asked me a favor? You said you wanted Longbottom. You said I should try anything in my power to get him. Alive. How little do you know that I _ hate _that boy with a passion. But you should have known that. After all, he was both my hero and tormentor as a child. He denied me the only thing I ever wanted. Friendship. And just because of my surname, he rejected me._

_ A surname even my bloody father is ashamed of me carrying. _

_ The only reason I am writing you this letter is because I told the messenger boy that once you pick up the item within this box, you will become weakened. You want to know who the delivery boy is, Tom? It's a young _ hero _you've been salivating after. Neville Longbottom believed me when I told him by touching the item inside, it would destroy you. After which, he expects to kill you. Becoming the little hero the world has placed him as._

_ I hardly think he'd be powerful enough to even create green sparks from the end of his wand. _

_ Honestly, I was thinking of truly hurting you. I wanted to kill you after I saw the burns on my brother's skin that would never heal. I wanted to hurt you after you betrayed my trust. Instead, I am giving you a gift and a farewell. After my mother's death, all I can seem to think about is leaving… I've gotten my revenge with the people that I've longed to get back at. _

_ The boy is holding the Gryffindor sword under his robes and there is also another item within this box that I think you'd be interested in. Dumbledore was keeping it in his office. _

_ I wish you good luck in the war. I've done my part. I've given you your fragmented soul; Neville Longbottom. _

_ You have him now, to do what you please. I hardly see reason why I should stick around you, now that you have him in your possession… I want nothing better to do but kill him. Sadly, he carries your soul. And at the moment, I can't stand to see another death. _

_ Now, after you read this, I am to disappear and become what every Seer should be. _

_ Neutral. I don't know if I'll survive where I'm going, but to me, at the moment, nothing really matters anymore. _

_ Parting ways like this, you and I won't have to struggle with this so called…relationship. It's better for both of us, Tom. You won't have to be pressured with trying to feel one goddamn emotion. And I, I will be free to spread my wings. _

_ With a heavy heart, **  
Harrison Regulus Malfoy** _

**_ Ps _ ** _. Good luck with the werewolves... _

Voldemort breathed deeply, feeling… feeling…

Hissing, he looked up at the boy. He watched as Longbottom shifted uncomfortably. "Did I say you could be in here, fool?" The boy shuddered, inching backward in a crawl. Voldemort pushed away the pathetic feelings of loss and sadness and replaced it with rage. "No, stay right _there_." Longbottom froze, half lying on the floor, half on his hands and knees.

With his magic, he slammed the doors shut, giving them privacy. Turning away from Longbottom, he moved the tissue paper, clutching the letter in one hand. The first thing he saw was his Guant ring. The stone was cracked, showing Voldemort that it was destroyed. He didn't dwell on that long when he caught sight of the next object.

He took the locket out, holding up the glittering Horcrux. The emeralds taunted him, reminding him of the symbolism… the boy was through with him, he no longer wanted to hold his soul close and protect him. His jaw tensed and his hand tightened into a fist, crushing the locket in his grasp. He breathed in deeply, shutting his eyes. That foolish boy… running when things were tough. He frowned, realizing what the boy intended to do. Voldemort snapped his eyes open, hissing in rage.

That stupid boy was going to the assassins.

Voldemort stood up, throwing the locket across the room in fury. Harrison, _his_ Match…

"My Lord," Voldemort had his wand out, pointing it at the Death Eater who dared entered without so much as a knock. "There…there is another delivery from Malfoy, My Lord." Crimson eyes landed on the body that dropped to the floor. It was wrapped up in a blanket with a Malfoy crest on it.

"Leave me," Voldemort grounded out, barely able to form words. Longbottom stood up, intent on leaving as well. "Not _you,_ messenger boy." Longbottom dived back on the floor, trembling. Once the door shut, Voldemort motioned his hand toward the body. "Unravel that blanket, now." In sick glee, he watched Longbottom crawl over to his other gift from his Match.

" _Hurry_ ," Longbottom whimpered as he started to unravel the sheet.

As the sheet pulled completely away from the body, Voldemort started chuckling, pleased. The face of Albus Dumbledore looked blankly up at the ceiling. A stab wound to his chest crusted over with dry blood, looking about the same width of what the Gryffindor sword would be. "Clever, sweet, clever," Voldemort murmured. He was amused and would enjoy hearing how Harrison had succeeded in the old man's death.

Longbottom turned away, lifting the mask and throwing up. "How did you like that, boy?" Voldemort questioned, smirking. "Unraveling your old fool's dead body."

"How…" Longbottom cried, turning to look at him. What a pathetic looking boy. "Harry said-,"

"It's _Harrison_ ," Voldemort spat out, walking closer to the boy. Longbottom stumbled backward, groping for something in his robes. He pulled out a golden spoon, clutching at it. Voldemort paused, cocking his head to the side, considering. "A portkey? Let me see… Harrison gave it to you, no?" He cackled, highly amused.

Longbottom shook, dropping the useless portkey. "He said- he said…" his eyes went to the locket across the room and then to the Dark Lord.

"One thing, foolish boy, is to never underestimate." Voldemort leered as he came closer, reaching out to grab the boy's jaw. "Harrison is more than just a pretty face." Crimson eyes narrowed at his own words, realizing the meaning behind them. He cleared his throat, forcing his attention away from his vulnerable and weak thoughts. "You were manipulated, child. How does that feel? He lied, he _used_ you," he said in glee, watching the boy shake. "Tell me," Voldemort mockingly caressed the sweaty face. "Did you taint him? Did you _touch_ what rightfully belongs to me?"

Longbottom gave a yell, pulling out the sword of Gryffindor. His eyes were narrowed in determination, a damned Gryffindor. Voldemort was prepared for the strike and chuckled as he easily broke Longbottom's wrist. The sword fell uselessly to the ground. "Tell me, Longbottom, did you touch him? Did you kiss him?"

He twisted the wrist around completely, closing his eyes in pleasure as he heard a crack. "Is that how he manipulated you?" He forced himself into the boy's mind, seeing the flashes of the conversation of the night before. He could feel the influence of Harrison's Seer powers and the power of seduction. He watched as Longbottom latched himself so disgustingly at Harrison, only to have Harrison to pull away.

Voldemort hissed in loathing, throwing Longbottom to the floor. "I would love to play with you more, Longbottom, but I'm afraid I need a part of you as an apology for my mate." Longbottom gave a whimper. "Oh, you didn't know?" Voldemort grabbed the sword, ignoring the burning on his hand. "Harrison Malfoy is my mate, and he has requested your death…" he leaned forward, breathing in the boy's face. "And I can only oblige, can't I?"

"No!" Longbottom screamed and squirmed as the point of the sword touched his forehead. "No!"

"No worries, _Neville_ , I won't kill you now. So… untactful to do it in a hurry, I just need… a piece…" and he sliced around the scar.

He laughed in glee as blood seeped forth. With precise movements, he cut a square around the lightning bolt scar, enjoying the screams. Harrison left him. It was unforgivable… he'd get his Match back; he'd stop the boy from leaving. If not, he'd hunt after the assassins until he gained possession of him once again. They would never be romantically involved like a couple of _saps_. No, there would be angst, there would be blood spilt. But Voldemort was willing to cooperate with Harrison if the boy agreed to cooperate with him.

If the boy wanted him to be his damn 'safe zone', as he called his mother, than he'd try.

"Ah, there we go," he crouched down and received the piece of skin from the bloody mess. Longbottom whimpered on the ground, sending snot and tears all of the floor. "What do you think, Neville?" Voldemort asked, shaking the flesh. "Should I clean it for him, or leave it a mess?"

Longbottom whimpered through his tears, curling up in a ball. Saliva poured from his mouth as he spluttered incoherently. "Yes, I think that exactly." He cleaned the flesh, easily revealing the lighting bolt scar.

"All for you, love." Crimson eyes glittered.

** -SSC- **

"Where is he?" Voldemort spat, taking Lucius around the collar and hauling the body in the air. The blonde looked frightened, his eyes wide.

"He was stayed after near Narcissa's grave-," the Dark Lord threw him down, all but running toward the funeral procession. People who didn't know him, didn't look twice, but there were a few smart wizards and witches who gasped and backed out of his way. He didn't care at the moment that he looked like an idiot, revealing himself out in public. The stupid boy was to blame… he'd punish the brat later on.

He gracefully weaved through the headstones, his robes flying behind him. Up ahead, he saw Harrison standing solo near a large marble headstone. In his hand, a beautifully crafted dagger was clutched in his hand.

"Harrison-," he started, but stopped as he witnessed crimson blood dripping down the blade and onto the ground.

He was too late.

The beautiful boy whirled around; looking all but shocked he was there. And then those green eyes saddened. "You came for me." He sounded confused, lost, unable to understand _why_ he was here. The boy covered it up with a smirk. "Like a romantic love story. I would have never known you would act in such a way, Tom."

"You stupid fool," Voldemort hissed, seething. "When I get my hands on you, it won't be so romantic." They stood, facing each other. They both knew that nothing could be done; Harrison had already completed the ritual. "You're running from me, you gave up so pathetically… that's not _you_. You would have stayed and fought like the stubborn bastard you are." Harry gave a smile, looking at the gathering wind.

"I didn't so much as run from you as I did my emotions," Harry said softly. "I am a wreck right now; no one can be around me…not with her dead."

"Then you should have asked Pythia Zabini for help, child." Voldemort scolded. "You think becoming an assassin will cure you? You'll _die_ if you try to be a Seer and assassin at the same time."

"Those are chances I'm willing to take." Harry replied back. His robes and hair swayed harshly in the wind. They both knew it was close.

"You're becoming an assassin for the wrong reasons, Harrison." Voldemort took a step closer. "You have to do this for yourself. Just because you're angry at both your father and I, it does not make it right that you should be something to show _us._ You've already set yourself up to fail by doing so." He thought he should try to warn the boy, to make Harrison see his weakness and exploit it.

"And why do you think I'm becoming an assassin just to show you? I want to prove to _myself_ that I can do this, that I can win this challenge. I want to become a better fighter; I can't allow a death to ruin me like it is. I need time away from all _this_." Voldemort stopped inches away. "And just because you came to me today, doesn't mean I'll submit to you. My letter stands true."

Voldemort's fingers shot out and grabbed the boy's jaw. "I wasn't counting on it." He caressed the Seer mark with his thumb, staring into his Match's eyes. "You'd better come back to me whole, love. Or Merlin help me, I'll destroy everyone who had a hand in turning you."

Shadows covered Harrison. "I sent a letter to the werewolves," Harrison spoke up, hardly able to hear himself over the wind. "They agreed on joining you until I get back, regrettably."

"And I thought you were neutral."

Harrison gave a sad smile. "There are many things that I need to figure out for myself, Tom. My letter still stands true…" he repeated again. Silly boy, he was only saying it out loud to try to convince himself. Harrison wasn't planning on him arriving here, today, after his scheme. And Voldemort was pleased to know that he threw Harrison off his one way mind track. The boy needed to know who he was dealing with. Harrison wasn't the only one with tricks up his sleeve.

He leaned down and crushed his lips against Harrison's. It wasn't gentle, not sweet like _Zabini's_ caresses were. His teeth scraped against Harrison's, enjoying the small body in his arms. His stomach burned with pleasure and desire… it was so pathetic…

"I'll come back," Harrison whispered, pulling away. "And when I do, we'll straighten out our _professional_ relationship together." And with that, the boy was drowned in shadows, warping and disappearing in the darkness, being pulled away with the wind.

Voldemort gave a scream of rage, knowing it was fruitless to try to get him back. Crimson eyes burned in fury, staring after the dying wind. He'd get the boy back. And he'd win this small battle between Harrison and him… he'd win it all.

** -SSC- **

Harry moaned as his body hit cold floor. The dagger in his hand clattered to the floor, slick with his blood. His head hurt, not just because of the impact, but because Voldemort had to _screw_ him up. The man actually showed up in the graveyard and the man had actually _comforted_ him on the roof of his house after his mother died… that wasn't supposed to happen…

He opened his eyes, blinking in the darkness. There was all but a small light in the middle of the room.

His body shivered with the cold. "Harrison Malfoy…" a voice murmured deeply, if not amused. "It took you long enough to join us." Harry frowned. They couldn't know his name, could they? He struggled to stand, squinting as a man stepped forward in the light.

Green eyes widened. "But…but…" he stumbled over his own words, the first time in ages. _"Regulus?"_


	25. Here in the Shadows

** Chapter Twenty Five: Here in the Shadows **

"Regulus?"

It wasn't the Regulus he'd seen in pictures, and it certainly wasn't whom Harry would imagine if he'd ever picture Regulus as a grown man. His mother and most the Black's always claimed how much Harrison had looked like Regulus. Sirius, Regulus' own brother, had said that Harrison looked like a more…beautiful, softer version of Regulus. And seeing Regulus, or, this man Harry assumed would be Regulus, Harry couldn't really agree…

The man was cold. His face was fuller than any aristocratic Black Harry knew. Although the man was handsome, he looked… rough, cold, and cruel. His eyes were a dark green, almost black in color, like Bellatrix's. Not bright green like they used to be. Harry supposed Regulus _did_ look like a Black, but he didn't look like Harrison, more like a grim Sirius. And what made the picture even more eerie...

There was no Seer mark on Regulus' cheek.

And Harry _knew_ his cousin was a Seer. Perhaps not a full fledged Seer, but he had practiced Seer magic…there should have been at least a silver or gold mark on his cheek.

The man's lips gave a lifeless grin. "Yes, cousin, I am Regulus, often called Master Black to the new recruits." He stepped forward, closer to Harry. His eyes drank in his form, studying him. "You're a little _small_ …smaller than I thought you'd be. But you do look more like a Black than any Malfoy."

"So I've been told," Harry frowned, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the overused phrase. "Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I thought you were dead. Sirius and my-," he paused, breathing deeply. "Narcissa said you were dead. By the Assassin Guild, no less."

Regulus grinned coldly. "I am dead, in a way, if you will." His voice was silky and deep, almost like Voldemort's. The man lifted his top lip and then Harry saw the sharp incisors in the man's mouth.

Vampire. Harry tensed up, knowing already that most the Assassin Guild was made up of vampires. It had to be expected that he would encounter them here. He'd been prepared for it, even, but he hadn't been prepared to see Regulus as one when the man was supposed to be dead.

Regulus chuckled darkly, stepping out of the light and deeper into the shadows. "The Guild allowed me time alone with you. They aren't very big on special treatment when it comes to students, but when it involves family; I can't seem to agree with that rule." Harry tensed when he felt Regulus standing next to him. He hadn't even heard any steps or breathing, or even a rustle of clothing. "Come now, let's go for a walk. We have much to catch up with."

Harry blindly made his way through the dark after picking up the abandoned dagger. Even if he was known for his grace, it was nothing compared to Regulus. The man was stealth, silent. The corridor they came up upon was cold and made of stone. "This is where the new recruits stay," dark eyes flashed in his direction. "You'll be staying down here, sleeping somewhere cold…and alone…" Regulus spoke sinisterly.

Harry raised an eyebrow, not daunted by the attempt to scare him. "And it's amazing, really, I have magic, I will be able to sleep warm."

"Ah," Regulus cocked his head. "I'm afraid magic is forbidden in the sleeping chambers, especially the first stage of training. You'll learn to live cold." Regulus led Harry away from the cold underground dungeons and up the stairs to a warmer part of the castle. "This first stage, we usually weed out the weak. We will test your skill in defense and martial arts. And more importantly," Regulus reached over to tap Harry's head. The finger was cold and hard. "We'll test your mentality; how strong you are, how dedicated…"

Incisors flashed in a smile again. It was a cold smile and Harry couldn't feel _one_ emotion coming off from Regulus. "The first stage is the longest and the most difficult. After the first stage, you'll be an assassin; you'll be one of our members."

"Our members?" Harry whispered, finally taking a good look at Regulus. In the warmer part of the castle, more candles were lit, allowing Harry to see the elaborate and stiff robes of his cousin. His eyes widened. "You're part of the Guild." His robes were black with a high blue collar. On his chest, there were badges of his rank.

For assassins there were three groups of rankings. The lowest were just assassins, warriors and something Harry would even be proud of if he completed. In fact, he didn't want to be anything higher than a normal assassin. Second in ranking, were members of the Guild, the council, if you will. They were in charge of the assassins' training. And lastly, there was the Head and his Hand. As their names entitled, the Head was the ruler of the Assassin Guild and his Hand, or right hand man, was second.

Judging from the markings of Regulus' robes, Harry gathered his cousin was part of the Guild. "I am," Regulus gave a sharp nod, sweeping around the corner and up another set of stone steps. They didn't move magically like Hogwarts and they were a long way up. "I train the new recruits."

"Will you be training me?" Each member of the Guild was assigned an apprentice, a student.

"No," Regulus gave a smile without humor. "Let me tell you a quick story, Harrison, before we part ways." Regulus caressed the wooden banister, staring up ahead with a void like expression on his face. "When I was younger, around your age, I had Seer powers, just like you. I wasn't full fledged as you are, mind, but I still had a few fuzzy visions here and there." The man murmured. "I always saw a young boy in my visions and eventually, I learned he was you."

Harry remained silent, knowing it was inconvenient to interrupt. "I had no idea why I would always envision you. Overtime, I was smart enough to realize you were the future son of Narcissa and Lucius. I know a lot about you, about how you grew up… you were a lot like me." Harry looked over at Regulus as the man's eyes glanced at him. "No matter how much you tried, it seemed as if your father would never actually _see_ you. My own father favored Sirius over me, just because Sirius was the chosen Heir, the oldest. Even when my older brother went into Gryffindor, it was all my parents could talk about.

"They never saw me."

Harry looked down, finally coming on the top of the stairs. Although Regulus was recounting something painful, his voice was void and a mater of fact. It disturbed him… he knew assassins were known for their cold interiors and exteriors, but he was surprised to find Regulus so…cold. After all, he'd been a Seer.

"At the time, I drove myself insane to try to make them look at me. I did things just to please them; I did everything so they would see me instead of Sirius." Regulus motioned Harry to another flight of staircases. "You've probably already heard most of this. Or perhaps you haven't."

"Sirius told me, actually." Harry replied. "He feels guilty over your death. He believes he was the one to drive you to the Assassin Guild, to get you killed."

Regulus remained silent for a long while. Harry studied his face. The man had a stubble goatee on his face, hiding the scars Harry could faintly see. "Really?" Regulus sounded interested. A bored interested. "When I was young, Sirius didn't give a damn." Matter of fact.

"We all grow older sometime," Harry whispered hoarsely. "Sirius is just taking a little longer than others."

The man gave a quiet chuckle. "The reason why I tell you this, Harrison, is because I know how much we're alike. I never understood why I had visions of you until now. You're here, with me. So alike me, yet so different." Regulus stopped, turning to stand in front of Harry. "I gave Narcissa my assassin dagger, trusting her that she would know what to do with it. Luckily, she gave it to you. You were destined to come here, Harrison… being here, you'll affect many people around you. That is why I have to ask you this just this once…"

Harry raised his eyebrows, his head barely reaching the man's shoulder. "I'll give you a chance to turn back around." Regulus said in all seriousness. "Your stay here won't be easy, I'll tell you that much, so decide _now_ if you want to go back."

"I'd like to stay here, Master Black." The man studied him silently before giving him a predatory smile. He whirled around, continuing forward. Harry followed, keeping his chin up. It was peculiar to know that Regulus had visions of him as a child. It was even more unusual that Harrison was _destined_ to be here. Then why did he feel so… anxious? Why was he second guessing himself? Granted, a part of him wanted to be here, to get away from everything and to become stronger.

"You're a full fledged Seer," Regulus pointed out.

Harry smirked. "And it'll stay that way."

The man gave a cold smile, reaching out to pat Harry on the back a little hesitantly. "I'm counting on that."

"Look at this, Regulus Black is actually smiling? With a _recruit_?" A voice jeered from the shadows. Harry calmly veered his stare to the shadows, watching as two men stepped out into the light. Like Regulus, the one who had spoken had the same ranking on his robes, and a heavy sneer on his face. The one next to him, on the other hand, had far more ranking on his chest while his high collar was gold. Harry couldn't help but to stare at him.

The man was tall and thin, like most stereotypical vampires. His dark blonde hair was short and side swept, covering most of his right side of his face, including his eye. The eye that was uncovered was a bright yellow, so cold and piercing, Harry had to look away.

He was struggling with this new environment. Back home, he was recognized as powerful and high up in society, but _here,_ here, he was a low ranking _recruit_ , a nothing to these men. Harrison knew that he had to keep his head down during his stay here. Although he had more than enough magic to defend himself, these men were quicker and far more creative. And if Harry made an enemy out of them, his whole life would be spent in paranoia.

When he went back home he could point his nose in the air in arrogance and order people around… and until that time, Harry vowed he would make himself stronger. Because he knew that the war was going to be a long and hard path, the light may have its slumps _now,_ with the Headmaster and Longbottom out of the picture,but they would rise above it and tower over the dark wizards… becoming a threat.

"Harrison, I'd like you to meet Master Sepster," Regulus nodded his head to the one who had spoken up. "And the Hand, Master Keiran." Harry allowed his eyes to study the Hand, the second in command. The man was a complete wall of stone. Nothing but power showed through. The yellow eye stared back at him, sizing him up. "And Sepster, Master Keiran, I'd like you to meet Harrison Malfoy, my cousin and _the_ new recruit."

Sepster, a dark haired man stepped closer, grinning in sick amusement. "This is Master Keiran's new pupil?" Harrison narrowed his eyes. "I'm afraid that you won't be winning this year, Master, with all due respect, of course."

"Leave us; I'd like a word with my student." Keiran stepped forward, eye still on Harrison.

Regulus hesitated, pursing his lips. Dark green eyes glanced at Harry and then bowed quickly at the waist, turning his heel to leave. Harry was slightly disappointed. There were still many things he wanted to know about Regulus.

And then… it was just Keiran and him. Harry kept his back straight, falling into his pureblood role. His face was motionless and nonchalant as he felt Keiran circle him. "This is what I have to work with?" the man whispered in disappointment. His hand reached out with quick reflexes and pushed at Harry's back. The Malfoy child stumbled forward, doing all he could to keep on his feet.

"You're weak,"

"You're small…"

Harry grounded his teeth as he stiffened again, this time, keeping himself sturdy. "I can see that you're arrogant," Keiran whispered, coming around to face him. Harry met the stare straight on, looking closer at the man. For a second in command of the Assassin Guild, the man looked young. Perhaps early twenties. But of course, that didn't mean anything. The man was a vampire and could be centuries of years old.

The right side of his face was mostly covered by his dirty blonde hair, but on the edges, Harry could see the scars near his nose, near his right eye. He knew, without a doubt, that the man's right eye was perhaps destroyed or disfigured. It had to be. There was no reason why the man would cover it if it weren't.

"I can see that you have too many emotions," a hand shot out, snatched his arm, and yanked him forward. Harry stumbled into Keiran, being held up by his arm. "A full fledged Seer as well…" Keiran lifted his lip. "Interesting…"

"Oh it is," Harry whispered back, feeling himself rise up to the onslaught of insults. "You have no _idea_ what I can do."

Keiran tisked, shaking his head and tightening his hold on Harry's slim wrist, threatening him with a tight hold. "Then why are you here? If you are so great, how are you supposed to improve yourself with that frame of mind? Hm?" Harry stared in the yellow eye, feeling no ounce of emotion coming from the vampire. Something curled in Harry's stomach as he kept eye contact. Keiran had a strong stare, an intimidating stare.

Eventually, he dropped his eyes to the ground. "Because I know I need to improve."

The vampire huffed, letting his arm go harshly. "Then lose that arrogance, child." Child. _Child._ Again, it was that… that insult.

Harry grimaced but remained quiet. "I am your Master for now and forever. You'll either die before you can be considered an assassin, or you'll die as a proud assassin- but I will still be your Master." The man walked deeper into the shadows, leaving Harry in the torch light. "You'll address me as only 'Master'; when you've earned my respect you may call me Mater Keiran. And if I'm pleased with you, I will address you by your given name."

Harry faced forward, deciding not to search the darkness like an idiot when he wouldn't even be able to see the man. "In these next few weeks, or hours, if you survive long enough, we'll get to know each other extremely well."

Harry smirked.

"Is something amusing?"

"No Master," Harry intoned.

"Oh, but judging from that foolish smile on your face, I would think that I have said something that is amusing to you." There was a hard edge to the vampire's voice but Harry couldn't be intimidated. Not when he'd been around the Dark Lord for the better part of his life.

"I just find it humorous that you think we'll get to know each other."

"And why is that?"

"Simply because we won't," Harry cocked his head to the side. " _You'll_ be getting to know my weaknesses and strengths and _I'll_ be getting to know you're limits and you're knowledge. It's strictly professional, Master, not at all personal." And where had he heard that before? Ah yes, he'd said it to Voldemort when he first met the man.

Keiran stepped from the shadows, his yellow gaze burning. "If you'd like to think that, child, then go right on ahead. But I'll be finding everything out about you, whether you like it or not." Harry scoffed mentally. There would be no way in hell he'd be telling this vampire anything about himself. "Come; let me show you to your rooms."

The man swept off, becoming nothing but a black wisp in the shadows. Harry all but jogged after him. Vampires. Harry briefly wondered how Seer affected vampires. Seer affected _every_ magical creature, including vampires. But he had to remind himself that _these_ weren't normal vampires. These were assassins, trained to feel no emotion, but a drive to kill and succeed. It was kind of like Remus compared to Fenrir and his pack. Only… the vampires would represent an even calmer and tamed Lupin.

Harry frowned as he was led away from the cold chambers. "Regulus," he cleared his throat. "Master Black told me I'd be sleeping further downstairs in the dungeons."

He could feel Keiran's eyes on him even if he couldn't see them. "And is Master Black your Master?" Harry remained quiet. "As much as I'd like to see you suffer, I'd rather not have a protégé with stiff joints the next morning due to a cold night sleep." A door flew open next to Harry and torches lit up automatically. "Go on. I'll wake you bright and earlier, _sunshine._ " Keiran mocked, all but pushing Harry in the room and slamming the door shut behind him.

A lock sounded, locking him inside. Harry raised his eyebrows, wondering if his magic could open the lock, but he'd rather not test Keiran's patience right now. Not when he just got here, at least.

Harry looked at the small bed. The room wasn't very…extravagant. But he shouldn't be comparing to his room in the Malfoy manor. The walls were stone and the floor was pebbled with bricks and rocks. It was slightly cold, but the fireplace at the end of the room gave off a warm glow.

Slipping out of his shoes, he sat on the edge of the bed, blinking at the flames. He allowed his face to drop, and his shoulders to slump. This was difficult. And he hadn't even started training yet.

He ran a palm across his face, closing his eyes briefly and breathing heavily through his nose. He had yet to mourn his mother, he had yet to think of Voldemort or his family… hell, the werewolves had been last on his mind as he hurried off to the funeral. They hadn't been happy, or rather, Greyback hadn't been happy, but he agreed to continue their agreement once he got back. _If_ he got back. Until then, they would undesirably follow Voldemort.

Harry took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut. Voldemort had come for him. He hadn't expected that to happen. He'd thought that once the Dark Lord gained Longbottom, the man wouldn't think to leave his newly acquainted pet. But he had and it was almost if he…cared. Harry shook his head on that, not understanding the man. Voldemort was… it was almost if he were finally learning. The Dark Lord was wise beyond his years, but not wise with humanity. Was Harry actually getting through to him?

He would have to wait until he got back. It was no use thinking over the werewolves and Voldemort when he was…Merlin knows where.

His 'plan' for revenge hadn't gone as planned. Well, perhaps for Longbottom and Dumbledore, but his plan to destroy Voldemort was abandoned once he saw the blood on his hands from Dumbledore and the death of his mother. No matter how much he'd like to pull away from Voldemort and ignore the man, he could never commit infidelity or betray him. He had wanted to kill the Dark Lord and let the man come back on his own through one of his many Horcruxes. But he didn't go through with it, he couldn't.

When he had been on the roof, after his mother died, the Dark Lord had showed up, almost as if he sensed that Harry needed someone. And he had. Voldemort was _there_ for him. The man was lenient and he listened. He never argued, or spoke when Harry wanted someone to listen.

"You're messing with my head," Harry declared tiredly.

Through those events, Harry realized that Voldemort could never truly 'say' sorry, instead, he'd show through actions.

Harry stood up; looking down at his formal robes he'd worn to the funeral. Originally, he wanted to become an assassin in the summer, after his revenge. But he had to move everything forward after his mother died. His emotions were haywire and he'd been weak. Coming here, to the assassins, he believed they could help him concentrate himself on something other than _her_ death.

But it wasn't just about Narcissa. He wanted to be here to become better, stronger. He'd always been a curious person. All his life, ever since Narcissa had given him the dagger, he'd been curious about assassins. And the drive to become one had grown when he found out Seer and assassins didn't mix. And even more so once he learned that Regulus had failed to do the same thing he wanted to achieve.

And all that drive, had finally come. Now was the time to prove to himself that he could surpass all those fears and do something he'd always wanted to do. If he succeeded, he'd be proud of himself and focus on the next task.

Becoming an assassin, he'd be able to fight in every possible way. Already, he could fight with his Seer, mentally and emotionally, and he could also use his raw magic... But he had yet to fight physically and of stealth. Assassins weren't exactly dominant creatures, they probably would have trouble against a crowd of wizards, but they were shadows, completely powerful in their own right. They weren't meant for a large battle, full of people, they were meant for slyness and secrecy.

And they did it elegantly.

And Regulus told him he was meant to be here. He Saw it happen. His cousin, who was still a complete mystery to him, envisioned Harry here. There was some purpose of him being here, one that Harry would need to find out later on in his stay.

Staying here, Harry was ready for this unknown.

He was ready to face it head on and exceed to the best of his abilities.

Looking around the small room, Harry threw himself on the bed and tried to force himself to sleep.

** -SSC- **

Another shoulder knocked him, causing Harry to lurch forward in his seat, gathering himself up. He glared over his shoulder at the large body that had bumped into his. All morning, it had been this way. He'd received envious looks, murderous looks… he didn't understand. He hadn't even _done_ anything yet.

After Keiran had picked him up, literally, by the robes, and thrown him into a cold shower, fully clothed, Harry was thrown a pair of robes. Keiran said they were 'beginner' or 'apprentice' robes. They were nothing but a black pair of robes with a gold tassel around the waist and black slacks. And then his 'Master' had motioned with his hand the way to the cafeteria. When Harry had entered the dark and small room, he had grabbed his oatmeal and sat down at a rugged table by himself. He wasn't looking to make _friends_ , but he would have liked to know why the other pupils there were hostile towards him.

There were about twenty students in the small room that housed the kitchen. Each of them had the same black robes as himself, but everyone had a different color tassel across their waist. Harry himself, had a bright gold. He wasn't stupid. He had seen Keiran's gold around his collar and knew the tassels corresponded with the Master.

"They're just jealous that you're getting trained by the Hand."

Harry looked up from his bland oatmeal. "Excuse me?" he eyed the boy standing across from him. He was around Harrison's age, if not a little older. But in the dark room, it was hard to tell. He didn't understand why the castle was so dark all the time, perhaps to add an element of mystery. The candle in front of him allowed him to see the boy's lazy smirk.

The boy invited himself to sit down, moving the hair from his bright blue eyes by shaking his head. "Master Keiran, of course… He hasn't taken on an apprentice for a long while. But the students he takes on, usually end up as victorious assassins, most of them becoming part of the Guild."

"Ah," Harry eyed the dark blue tassel across the boy's waist. "And who is your Master?"

The boy smiled. "Master Black, of course. He told me to make associates with you." Harry felt a brief pang of envy. "The name is Alex, by the way." He held out a hand and Harry stared at it, blinking. "I'm new here, just like you."

"You're too friendly to become an assassin," Harry took the hand, squeezing it. The boy winced slightly.

"And you're too small to become an assassin." Alex shot back, squeezing his hand back. "Master Black ordered for me and you to get along. Quite frankly, you could use someone to watch your back with how many enemies you already have. After all, they're asking why _you,_ of all people, would get the Hand as a Master. You're nothing special, no offense."

Harry gave a sarcastic smile, looking back down at his oatmeal. The boy, Alex, was far taller than him and more muscular. Harry wouldn't doubt that the other students here would be suspicious and jealous. Quite frankly, Harry was envious at Alex to have Regulus, his own cousin, as a Master. He didn't know _why_ he had the Hand as a Master, but Regulus seemed to know. And from the way things looked, it would be awhile before they could come in contact with one another.

"So," Alex cupped his own bowl in his hands. "Do you know the basics about the place?" Harry remained silent, looking over Alex's shoulder at the vampires who had entered. In particular, he watched Keiran enter, looking proud and indestructible. "You're not much of a talker, are you?"

Keiran and the other members of the Guild calmly sat at their own table, a distance away from the students. His master's eye swept across the room at him before looking away nonchalantly. Harry pursed his lips, wondering what was in their mugs. No doubt blood. After all, even cold hearted assassin vampires had to replenish with blood as nutrients and supplements.

"No," he whispered.

Alex took his answer as a cue to continue talking. "Not many people make it as assassins. They usually are killed by the Guild for being weak or not the right fit for an assassin, or they are killed by the other students here." Alex grinned, almost if he were excited over this prospect. "All of us students are humans." The boy leaned closer and Harry sneered at the proximity. "Did you know that if you become a member of the Guild, they turn you into a vampire?"

Harry considered this. "No, I didn't know that." He knew most of them were vampires, he hadn't known that they turned each member.

"And the assassins are human," Alex shrugged looking down at his bowl of lump. "I think that's unfair."

"Why?" Harry queried. "Assassins are lower then the Guild. Of course they wouldn't get the privilege of becoming a vampire." Harry wouldn't want to become one, he couldn't, not with his Seer. That, and the fact that vampires couldn't cast magic once they were turned. But they didn't need magic. They were incredibly fast and strong, it would be difficult to fight off a vampire, even with magic. Alex remained silent and Harry's lips twisted in a smile. "You want to become a vampire then? And you don't think you'll make it to the Guild?"

Alex shrugged, not commenting on Harry perspective of him. "There are also weekly matches between a few students who want to challenge one another. I heard that the Masters like to get one over on each other so they challenge each other's student in a match." Harry grinned at that. It was hard to believe that cold and unemotional vampires taunted one another with who had the better apprentice. "Sometimes, students die in the match."

Harry frowned when he felt Alex's emotions spike with pleasure and sadistic glee. The boy was a loose nut; Harry could clearly see there was more behind this boy than his innocent smile and 'kindness'.

The boy leaned back, taking a spoon and shoveling his oatmeal in his mouth. "What _are_ you anyway? Some sort of royal Veela?" Harry scoffed, giving the boy a scathing look as the blue eyes traced him and his mark.

"Veela are _fair_ , I have dark coloring. I'm a Seer." He raised his eyebrows. "You probably don't know what they are, and I don't feel inclined to explain it to you."

Alex chewed the oatmeal. "Seer, obviously… they 'see' visions. You don't need to explain it to me." Harry gave a thin smile, pleased. Let the little boy think that's all Seer did. He would have to bet that most of these 'students' in here didn't know what a Seer was or what they did. Actually, he knew that no one knew the true extents of power the Seer held.

"Are all these students wizards?" he glanced around the room, not seeing many powerful auras.

"Most of them," Alex agreed. "But some are Squibs. The Guild doesn't allow magic here anyway, not at first, at least." A heavy body sat itself down next to Harrison. Alex tensed up after giving a quick glance at the one whom had made his presence known. Harry watched Alex burry his face in his bowl, not at all speaking or making any sudden movements.

Feeling the stare on the side of his face, Harry lazily moved his eyes to meet hard brown. The body sitting next to him was heavy, possible almost as tall and burly as Hagrid would have been in his younger teens. "Hello," the boy smiled, showing a missing tooth in the front of his mouth.

Harry raised his eyebrow, uninterestedly. "Pleasure," with that, he turned away from the boy, ignoring him entirely. His Seer told him this boy was 'trouble', a cruel soul. And Harry wouldn't lick the floor the boy walked on like the rest of the students probably did. Judging from the way most of the kitchen grew quiet; Harry knew they had been talking about him, which caused for this small giant to come over here. To test him.

"You look a little young," the boy continued.

"Probably just as old as you are," Harry commented back. He looked over at the few members of the Guild, noticing that Keiran was becoming aware of the situation. The bastard, he was probably looking forward to off Harry as soon as he could. Harry directed his stare at the over large boy next to him. "Looks can always be deceiving," he whispered.

The boy smiled, showing his disfigured teeth. "Looks… it looks like a pretty boy like you shouldn't be _here_. Things can get a little lonely here and the only use pretty little boys have around here is to entertain us, bigger, and better men." Harry narrowed his eyes at the leer.

Both of them acted at the same time.

Harry could see it coming as the boy reached over and grabbed his crotch. He didn't get a very long feel, for Harry acted just as quickly. His fingers closed around the candle, tearing it off the table and pressing the flame and hot wax into the boy's hand.

With a pleased laugh, Harry watched as the boy gave a pained moan. He deliberately spread the candle around, making sure to smear it up the boy's wrist as well. It wouldn't do much damage, but the boy's hand would be incapable to use for a short while without magic to heal it.

Little giant, what Harry would call the kid from now on, bared his teeth in a hiss and struck out with his other hand. It barely missed as Harry ducked. Alex jumped up, backing away from the table as little giant all but roared and erupted from his seat. His hand was ugly red and shiny with wax slowly dipping down the swollen appendage.

With a blind rage, the boy attacked an amused Harry. The students all stayed sitting, not at all interested in stepping in and helping out, nor where they standing and cheering like Harry had thought they would. They watched the two with their eyes, murmuring amongst each other. Harry ducked once again, relying on his reflexes to protect him.

"By the way you're acting; I'm guessing you get rejections a lot." Harry taunted; ducking underneath another fist.

"You little bastard," little giant salivated. "You'll bloody pay for that!" All but dancing around the boy, Harry guessed that little giant had been here for perhaps a few weeks if not a few days. This wasn't assassin material and Harry had a feeling little giant wouldn't make it as an assassin.

Before he could duck again, a hand came out and stopped the fist straight on. Harry blinked, seeing Keiran standing partially in front of him, holding the little giant's fist as if it hadn't come at him with any force. Without so much as a struggle, Keiran twisted the boy's hand, snapping it effortlessly. Little giant fell to the floor, all but whimpering in pain.

"Ayden," Keiran barked softly, looking over Harry's head at the Guild members. "Show your apprentice the correct way to act. Groping men in public is a far cry from proper, have a little more _tact_." A vampire, Harry assumed to be Ayden, got up and bowed lowly at the wait.

"Yes, Master, of course."

Keiran then turned his gaze downward on Harry. "Come," without waiting for a reply, the vampire swept from the room, every gaze on his back. Harry threw one last look at the broken arm of little giant and followed. The gazes on _his_ back weren't as respecting and intimidated as Keiran's were, no, Harry could feel the hostile loathing.

"We'll need to give you physical, after which, I will begin training you."

Harry blanched, sneering. "A physical?"


	26. Candy Clouds of Lullaby

** Chapter Twenty Six: Candy Clouds of Lullaby **

"Strip," Keiran ordered, slamming the door behind him. Harry eyed the man in the corner of the sterile room. This room was the lightest room he had encountered as of yet. The walls were even _white_ not stone or dark. The man in the corner was old, and seeing his aura, he knew it was a Healer.

"Strip?" Harry inquired, grimacing. He was in no way _ashamed_ of his body, in fact, he may be the opposite. Only, he felt…awkward in front of strangers. No one had seen him naked before. Merlin, why did he have to strip?

"Did I stutter?" Keiran raised his eyebrows, motioning for the Healer to get up and approach Harry. " _Now_ child." Harry refused to show any vulnerability as he untied the golden tassel around his waist and allowed his cloak to drop to the floor. Next where the slacks until he stood in the room, completely naked.

He watched through lazy eyes as the Healer stood up and adjusted his glasses. In his hand, he held a needle and wand. "I'm taking blood first, nothing to be upset over." The old man inserted the needle in his arm and Harry watched as the syringe filled with crimson blood. The man took the blood sample and made his way across the room toward a contraption of some sort. Setting the sample inside the disc, it started twirling, using the magic around it to test for any impurities.

Keiran stood motionless in the corner of the room, looking almost like a statue with how immobile he was. Harry tried to mimic the man, only to rear backwards when a cold hand touched his ribs. Narrowing his eyes on the Healer, he made himself stay still as the man prodded his body with both his hands and his wand. Harry breathed heavily as the hand wandered lower. "There's nothing _wrong_ down there, you do not have to wander."

Keiran grinned. "Let the man do his job, apprentice."

Harry clenched his jaw, staring at the ceiling. "What was with you saving my arse today?" Harry wondered out loud. "I thought Master's allowed foul play between students. In fact, I would have thought you wanted to off me before you had to humiliate yourself with training me."

"He was out of place to lay hands on another student in such a manner, it is against our code." Keiran murmured. "As far as your training goes, apprentice, you won't be too hard to train. We'll focus mainly on your strengths."

"Oh?" Harry wondered out loud, raising his eyebrows in a mocking fashion. "And what may that be? I thought I didn't have any."

"Stop feeling such pity for yourself, child." Keiran shot back. "It is unbecoming."

"Sorry Master, I was just repeating what you said to me last night." Harry caught a ghost of a smile on the man's face and a flicker of emotion. But it disappeared as quickly as it came.

"You have a tongue on you, little one. And a far hotter temper then I would have originally thought. That can get you into trouble, with not only your enemies, but the other Masters here as well. I am far more lenient with my students then most Guild members."

Harry cocked his head to the side as the Healer's fingers and wand probed his neck. He winced lightly as the wand emitted a shock. "That is why the other apprentices are jealous of me then," Harry realized. "You don't beat the shit out of your apprentice and you don't force them to sleep on top of ice."

"And how do you know that I don't beat the 'shit' out of you?"

Harry gave a smirk. "Was that sarcasm, Master?"

The Healer cleared his throat, bringing the two men's attention on him. "He's severely underweight," his fingertips brushed across his revealing ribs again. "Do you suffer from any headaches?" The doctor asked. "Loss of appetite? Loss of sex drive? Fatigue?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Perhaps,"

"A yes or no," Keiran ordered.

"Yes," Harry responded, bored. The Healer motioned for him to put his clothes back on. Harry did so gratefully, tugging his cloak around him protectively from the stares. The hell, he was skinny, so what? His magic was also suffering in exhaustion with the studying and power struggles he went through. What did it matter if he lost weight? Or _sex_ drive? He had a little… after all; he and Blaise had been slightly close that one afternoon…

"Was there anything life altering that has happened in your life recently?"

He glared up at the man. "I just broke up with my bloody girlfriend." The Healer shook his head sadly and went over to stick his nose in Harry's blood sample. Bloody idiot. Harry looked down as he tied the tassel around his waist. When he looked up, Keiran was inches from him. He didn't allow his surprise to show on his face; instead, he met the stare evenly.

"You will be respectful to me and listen, that is all I ask of you. We will get along if you follow those two rules." Keiran tapped his cheek. "I don't care if you have a sharp tongue, as long as it's not disrespectful to me or my teachings and I don't care if you get angry. But you _will_ respect me and that means listening to my orders. Do you understand?"

Harry frowned, keeping his chin down, but locking his eyes on Keiran. "Of course, Master," Harry pursed his lips. "But I will stand by my word from last night. I will not tell you anything personal about me or my life. I'm only here to improve myself and to extract your teachings."

Keiran raised an eyebrow but remained silent. Harry didn't understand what the vampire was thinking. "Your blood carries the _Lewd_ disease." Harry snapped his eyes away from Keiran and over to the hunched over form of the Healer. The man's glasses were slipping down his nose as he scribbled his quill against a piece of parchment.

"Excuse me?" Harry whispered dangerously. "I have the _Lewd_ disease?"

The doctor looked up over his glasses. "No. But you are a Carrier for the disease. Meaning you don't have the disease but you-,"

"Are able to pass it on to my children, yes, I know what a Carrier is." Harry gave an ironic smile, feeling his heart miss a beat at the mention of the disease that took his mother's life. "It's a good thing I don't plan on having children then." Harry was breathing heavily, hating that _now,_ was the time he was getting sore about Narcissa's death. He flashed an observant Keiran a look. "You said we were going to train, Master, are we finished here?"

Keiran turned his eye on the Healer and the man gave a wave of his hand. "Fatten him up and he's as good as healthy."

"Come then," Keiran led him away. "As I said earlier, we will be concentrating on your strengths; you're small and you look as if you will never outweigh your opponent in muscle or physical strength." Harry remained silent as he trotted after the vampire, glad to be out of that _room._ "With that in mind, we will improve your quickness, your reflexes, your stamina, and your grace. There are pressure points I'll teach you about and you'll exceed with the dagger and sword."

"And what about my emotions?" Harry inquired. "Are you not going to play mind tricks on me? Flatten out my Seer into nonexistence?"

Keiran whirled around, eyeing him up and down with a glint in his eye. "You tell me everything a Seer can do, Harrison, and I'll teach you to shield your emotions behind a solid mask."

Harry's eyes widened. "You're serious? I though assassins and Seer-,"

"You've heard right," Keiran took an advancing step forward. "Vampires…assassins, are trained _not_ to feel anything. Nothing. But I want to know more about the Seer and _you_. If you tell me what I want to hear, I will train you to become an assassin and allow your Seer to stay with you. Or, I'll try my best."

"Why? Why would you allow that? Why do you want to hear about my-,"

Keiran cut him off again. "Because I disagree with the Head of the Guild," he said quietly. "He does not want a Seer to be an assassin. But I feel as if you could be of value to us if you were to keep your natural power. Being a Seer… I want to know what it entitles." The yellow eye was full of intense fire, Harry was unsure if this vampire in front of him was really who he said he was. Perhaps… perhaps Keiran had more to hide than what Harry saw.

"Why do I get the feeling that you're hiding something? Why do I think that you're trying to keep my Seer intact for your own personal gain?"

A predatory smile crossed the vampire's lips. "That is for you to find out yourself, Harrison." The yellow eye lost its fire behind an icy stare. "You're far too expressive for your own good. Let's start with that, shall we? After which, I will teach you how to fight without the use of magic and your Seer." Harry frowned as he watched Keiran continue on the way.

There was something more to this. And he had a feeling that both Keiran and Regulus were in on it. Pursing his lips, he followed behind Keiran, knowing he would find out sooner or later.

** -SSC- **

Lucius brushed his robes down, taking a deep breath to compose himself. There were officials from the Ministry in the foyer downstairs. The reason for the visit was a mystery to him and on the contrary, he wasn't very prepared. Grey eyes looked at himself in the mirror, eyeing the bloodshot eyes and the dark circles.

"My Lucius," he murmured to himself, using his wand to conceal the signs of weakness and fatigue. "How far you've fallen…"

He lost his wife, his equal. Narcissa completed him and without her, he felt as if he were unbalanced. Nostrils flaring, he leaned heavily on his cane and swept out of the room. Harrison had left. He'd been gone for a couple of weeks now and Lucius had no idea where he went. Draco was in Hogwarts and reported Harrison missing, along with the Headmaster and Longbottom. The students were in an uproar over the three missing wizards and rumors spread like wildfire.

Not only were Harrison, Dumbledore, and Longbottom missing, but the Dark Lord took a leave of absence. Lucius hadn't been called since Harrison had vanished. There was something happening behind the scenes, but Lucius was far too preoccupied with his own problems to really _see_ what it was.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy," Lucius raised his eyebrows as Minister Rufus Scrimgeour stood up from the loveseat. With him, four other officials stood with their wands in their holsters, strapped across their waist.

"Minister," Lucius gave a sharp nod, wary. "What brings you here?" He eyed the untouched drinks on the table before them.

"Actually, many issues are needed to be brought up, Lucius." The Minister's wild and unkempt hair shook as the man reared his head in a quick nodding. "First, I'd like to express my condolences for the loss of your wife. Narcissa, I heard, was a magnificent woman."

"She was," Lucius replied coldly.

Rufus cleared his throat, sitting down. Lucius stayed standing, crossing his hands over the silver cane in his grasp. The Minister's eyes were just as cold when they looked at Lucius. "Let's just get down to business then," Scrimgeour pulled out a scroll of parchment. "We'd like to ask where your son is, Harrison Regulus."

Chest contracting, Lucius remained motionless. "Why, may I ask, are you looking for my son?"

Scrimgeour gave him a large smile, a mocking smile. "Simply because he's under arrest."

It was news to Lucius. "Really?" he breathed, giving off an innocent expression. "Under what charges? You must know he's underage…" The Auror next to Scrimgeour gave a snort. Lucius flashed him a glare, sneering at the man.

"He's under the arrest for Albus Dumbledore's murder and under suspicions for Neville Longbottom's disappearance." Lucius raised his eyebrows, unable to veil his surprise. His son had killed one of the most powerful light wizards of all time? As dangerous as this situation was, Lucius couldn't help but to feel a bit of pride for his oldest son. Killing Albus Dumbledore?

"I see," Lucius drawled, leaning against one of the armrest in a poised manner. "Have you found the body of either of them?"

"No, not yet-,"

"So you don't know for sure if Longbottom is _really_ missing or has just upped and left." Lucius paused, cocking his head to the side in a thoughtful expression. "So let me get this straight." Scrimgeour was about to interrupt, but Lucius wouldn't allow as much. "The greatest wizard of all time was 'killed' but you have yet to find the body. Let's repeat that once again, shall we? The _greatest_ and the most powerful light wizard of all time was killed. And you're saying a sixteen year old wizard played a hand in his murder?"

Silence.

"Mr. Malfoy, you of all people should know about the speculations that your son was a growing threat. There are many sources that say Harrison was a very powerful wizard." Scrimgeour grinned. "But it's a good thing we have an eye witness of the murder. You see, a portrait witnessed the attack and before Mr. Malfoy could freeze the portraits, one of them was able to deliver the message to Minerva McGonagal." Scrimgeour smiled.

Lucius grinned back. "You can never trust a portrait, Scrimgeour. That is hardly _any_ proof; I suggest you get more evidence before you waste your time in looking for my son." He paused. "My son, Draco, told me that the Headmaster was absent ever since school began back from break. That was almost a month ago, Minister. What took you so long?"

The Minister gave a predatory smile. "It's funny you should ask that, Mr. Malfoy. You see, we wanted to make a…two in one stop, if you will." Lucius stiffened, eyes flashing. "With Albus Dumbledore's death, he wrote a will. He sent me an interesting pensive memory, Lucius. A memory about a deal he had with one Harrison Malfoy. He agreed to aid the boy in rescuing you, while holding the information on your… _status_ as a Death Eater, in return for Harrison's vow to remain neutral during his stay at Hogwarts."

The three Aurors stood up, hands going to their wands. Lucius straightened up. "Let me see your left forearm, Lucius."

Lucius lifted his chin up high and pulled up his sleeve, revealing the dark mark. "You will _all_ fall," Lucius whispered fiercely. "All of you."

And then he was stunned.

** -SSC- **

The Great Hall was at abuzz this morning. Draco calmly poured syrup over his pancakes, pursing his lips in annoyance as he felt more than one gaze on him. "Did you see it, Malfoy?" Blaise wondered out loud. He slapped the Prophet. "No, I don't think you did."

"What, Zabini?" Draco snapped, sneering over at the black wizard.

Whispers grew louder and Draco looked up, shooting them all a glare.

"This," the Prophet was thrust in his face.

_ Malfoy Empire Crumbles. _ Draco grimaced, taking the paper. On the front page was a picture of Harrison, grinning. It claimed him as a fugitive, responsible for the death of Albus Dumbledore and the disappearance of Longbottom. "Approach with caution," Draco read, grinning. "How about, 'if you approach, you'll likely get killed'?" He read further down the page, seeing a picture of Lucius in custody.

His stomach twisted as he read that Lucius was taken into custody late the night before and very likely taken to Azkaban. This meant, he was the only one holding up the Malfoy name, he was alone…

But he had faith that his brother would come back, wherever he went.

Composing himself, he gave the Prophet back to Zabini and smirked into his pancakes. "You're not upset?" Zabini questioned, raising his eyebrows.

"Why should I be?" Draco smiled. "I have a powerful brother who will be back and show these bastards' who is really in charge. The Malfoy family will be great again, rising to the top." He shot a superior look to the students glancing his way. "And whoever thinks otherwise will be shown wrong."

** -SSC- **

"My Lord," a voice sang. Voldemort took off his reading glasses, giving the women in his private chambers a scathing look. "My _Lord_!" She sauntered deeper into the chambers, clutching a Prophet in her hands.

"When did I ever give you the right to come in here?" Bellatrix pouted, her dark eyes flashing in mock hurt.

"When I thought you'd like to see _this_ ," the Prophet dropped on his desk, over his open books and freshly inked notes. "My, my, how the Malfoy family has fallen." Voldemort eyed the parchment, looking at the brilliant eyes of his Match.

"I've already seen this, Bellatrix. You may leave now."

"Aren't you at all saddened that Lucius has been taken away?"

"That is why I have asked you to retrieve a detailed map of Azkaban. With it, I want all the names of my followers and what floor they're on and what number cell." He turned back to his tome. His shoulders tensed as Bellatrix placed her chest on his back and ran her hands down his arms in a seductive manner.

"My Lord," she moaned in his ear. Her fingers danced and caressed his bare skin on his hands. "Why don't I help you…warm your bed while my nephew is away? It must be lonely without him. I can always help you… just like old times."

Voldemort's crimson eyes burned. With his magic, an invisible arm wrapped around her waist, tossing her across the room. She landed like rag doll, her head banging particularly heavy on the stone floor. He stood up calmly, gliding in her direction. "Old times, Bellatrix, was over twenty years ago. There is only _one_ that warms my bed now." He crouched down to her frightened eyes. "Don't _ever_ think that you are on the same level as him." He hissed angrily. "Leave me and make yourself useful."

She scrambled up, running out of his chambers.

She deserved much more than a head pounding. Voldemort hissed, looking at the bed across the room. He'd been _clean_ for twenty years now. And on the contrary, it didn't bother him. Harrison was the only one that would be _touching_ those sheets, no one else. The thought of allowing another to touch him disgusted him. Blame it on the little brat… he'd get his revenge when the boy came back.

Breathing deeply, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. Perhaps it was time to get back to work; otherwise, he'd drowned in himself if he started thinking of the little minx.

** -SSC- **

"Regulus?" Harry stood up from his bed, about to get ready for bed. His whole body was sore and Keiran hadn't shone any mercy today. Just as he was about to strip, he heard his door unlock. Thinking it was Keiran he was ready to give the man a tongue lashing, but to his surprise, it was his cousin.

The man stood in the shadows, clutching the door with his hand. "Do you mind if I come in?"

Harry gave a sharp nod, clearing his face. It had been weeks since he'd come here and Keiran had successfully showed him how to remain emotionless when the time called for it. Pythia, had been a great teacher, but Keiran was even better. The vampire knew his stuff and he taught it with a firm hand. Harry had been bruised on several occasions and even had broken a few bones, but he could say he was proud of himself. Despite all the humiliation he had to go through.

Regulus shut the door to his room and entered further inside. The last time Harry had talked with his cousin had been the day he arrived here. Keiran had kept him under wraps, only allowing him to eat with the other students and that was it.

His cousin stopped across from him, staring. Harry stared back.

Regulus allowed a smirk to spread across his face. "Keiran is teaching you well, it seems. How long has it been? Three weeks? Much improvement from the first time I saw you." Harry watched as Regulus slowly advanced forward, sitting on his bed. "You mind?"

"No," Harry calmly sat down, eyeing the vampire. "I'm guessing you're here to finally tell me why you faked your death."

"I wasn't going to survive, being a Seer and all. But Keiran was my Master at the time and saw potential in me." Regulus shrugged. "He destroyed my Seer and made me into this."

"A cold hard assassin," Harry finished for him. "But why did you fake your own death? Why leave behind your family?"

His cousin looked into the fire, giving a sad smile. "Because of what I turned out to be, I could have never gone back to them. Even if I was a Black, I was always grinning and laughing… I always tried to mimic Sirius. And Narcissa and I were close; she was one of my closest friends as a child." The man shrugged. "I couldn't go back, so I faked my death. I had the Assassin Guild owl my family and tell them I didn't succeed in passing their standards. They sent my dagger to them after my last vision of you."

Regulus sighed. "I wasn't as strong as you, Harrison. Look at you, you're a _full_ fledged Seer and yet, you look as cold as the rest of us. Keiran tells me you are succeeding and improving much faster than he predicted." Regulus reached over to lay his hand on Harry's knee. "I'm proud of you."

Harry stared at the hand on his knee. It was warm, unlike the cold touches he had felt earlier from all the vampires. He couldn't help a smile to cross his lips, feeling something within him warm at the touch of Regulus. It was what he always dreamed his father to do. "Thank you, Regulus." The man grinned, not mentioning anything about the lack of 'Master'.

"You're also changing Master Keiran with your presence," Regulus winked. "And me, I suppose."

"What do you mean? Master Keiran-," Harry denied.

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed, Harrison." Regulus tightened his hand on Harry's knee. "That vampire hasn't smiled _once_ ever since he became the Hand. And with you, I've seen him do it more than once. I suppose it's a blend of your contagious personality and your Seer. He always mentions your sharp tongue. I think he's rather fond of you."

Harry frowned at that, scooting closer to Regulus. "And when are you going to tell me about Keiran's and your plan?"

Regulus' face morphed back into stone. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't tell me you haven't noticed, Regulus." Harry used the vampire's words back at him. "I've seen the way the Guild is usually split in two groups, how Keiran seems to always privately disagree with the Head…" Harry spoke softly, inching closer to his cousin. "You're planning on a revolt, aren't you?"

"Harrison-,"

Harry whispered in the man's ear. "But _why_ are you aiming to kill the Head of the Assassin Guild?"

"What is going on here?" A cold voice spoke from just feet away from them. Harry calmly backed away from Regulus, eyeing Keiran who now stood before them, his yellow eye intense. "Master Black, I didn't remember giving you permission to speak to my apprentice."

"Master," Harry started calmly. "Master Black is my cousin, my presumed _dead_ cousin. We were just catching up." Keiran stepped closer, his eye still on Regulus. That vampire…honestly. "Actually," Harry drawled arrogantly, successfully getting Keiran's attention. The vampire _hated_ when Harry was arrogant. "I lied. I was just asking Regulus why you and he wanted to kill-,"

A cold hand lay over his mouth, shutting him up. "Hush," Regulus hissed.

Harry took Regulus' wrist and forced it off him. "I'm not stupid; I wasn't going to say it." He looked at his Master. "But I would like to know why I'm here. Why are you training me so hard?"

"I train all my students that way, Harrison."

"No," Harry breathed, frowning at both men. "There is something underhanded going on here. And for some reason, you believe I can help you. What is it?" He looked away from his Master and to Regulus, thinking he could break him first. "You told me I was destined to be here… why? What's wrong with the Guild? Is there manipulation? Deception?" Regulus took a deep breath, glancing at Keiran.

Harry clenched his jaw, snapping his head around to see a yellow gaze on him. "Master? Will you tell me?" Keiran took a step closer, kneeling down before Harry. With quick hands, he took Harry's face and brought him forward.

Heart giving a profound 'pound' at the proximity of Keiran's mouth near his neck, Harry tried to calm himself. He wouldn't bite him… he wouldn't. Keiran's nose traced his jugular and the hands on his face tightened. "Can you hear me?" he whispered softly.

Being a vampire, Harry knew they could talk as quiet as the wind and hear as sharp as any animal. He gave a nod, as much as possible with the cold hands on his face. The small hairs on his neck raised with Keiran's breath ghosting across his skin. He shouldn't be feeling this… aware of Keiran's presence. His Master always touched him, especially when they were training. _But never this intimately…_ a voice sneered.

"For over centuries, the Assassin Guild _never_ stepped in wars, whether it is muggle or wizard. Recently, the Head of the Guild has been disappearing lately. He takes a few Guild members with him and just recently, I've found out that he's meeting with a figurehead for the wizarding world. He's been negotiating with them, planning on joining the war on one side." Keiran paused and Harry could feel the hot breath become warmer with anger. "He's power hungry; he wants to change the Guild, our _whole_ society. He wants to destroy our secrecy and bring us out into the light… I don't want that and there are others who are against it as well."

Keiran leaned back, searching Harry's expression.

Harry remained blank though, using his Master's teachings. He understood where Keiran was coming from. The Head of the Guild, the most powerful assassin, wanted to join a side in the war- after centuries of being neutral. Assassins were secretive, they were mysterious, and they thrived on people not knowing anything about them. Participating in the war could damage their reputation, their power, their stealth…

"Do you know who the Head is negotiating with?" Harry whispered.

"That's what we hoped you could answer, Harrison." Regulus spoke up. "Master Keiran and I don't go out much," he gave a crooked grin. "If we do it'll be to hunt our targets, not catch up on the outside world."

Harry looked down. "It isn't the Dark Lord Voldemort."

Regulus leaned forward, a wicked grin on his lips. "And why is that, Harrison?" There was a iniquitous gleam in his eyes as if he _knew_ what was between Harry and the Dark Lord. Harry narrowed his eyes on his cousin.

"Because we're partners,"

"What _kind_ of partners?"

"Regulus," Keiran warned with a hiss, frowning in distaste. "Control yourself." Harry watched as Regulus deflated, becoming a stone statue once again. For once, Harry was happy that his cousin was impassive again.

"The Dark Lord wouldn't contact the assassins," Harry repeated. "I was with him before I came here and he would have shared that bit of information with me." He eyed Keiran. "No, I don't think he'd want to be in an alliance with the vampires."

Regulus leaned forward. "Then Dumbledore?" He asked quietly.

Harry looked upward, holding in a sigh. Keiran and he had been training for about three weeks now. The vampire hadn't asked Harry again to share any information regarding the Seer and his own personal life. It was a nice gesture on his part, not to push, but Harry knew he'd eventually have to tell Keiran in order for the man to understand how to train him properly with his Seer.

"It would make more sense," Harry pondered. "The light doesn't like to get their hands dirty with blood… it would be convenient if they made an alliance with assassins in order to kill the dark wizards." Regulus nodded along side him, Harry resisted a grin. "But it can't be Dumbledore. The old fool is dead."

Regulus lost his emotionless mask once more, leaning over and pinching Harry's cheeks. "Did my little cousin kill off the most powerful light wizard?" Blood rushed to Harry's cheeks at the man's behavior. It couldn't be, could it? Was Regulus Black slowly converting backward to his old self? How could that be? Perhaps… Harry's Seer? He narrowed his eyes slightly, wondering if Regulus had foreseen this as well. Did the man know he would loose his emotions, only to gain them back when his Seer of a cousin came to him?

" _Regulus,_ " Keiran hissed, taking Regulus by the hair and pulling him away. "Should we resume _your_ training?" Harry observed the two beneath lower lids. Master and ex-apprentice stared at one another, the later slumping in submission.

"No, Master Keiran," Regulus shot Harry a look. "But you obviously have never met Albus Dumbledore. It is an honor to be Harrison's presence…"

Harry cleared his throat. Keiran narrowed his sights on Harry. "So you're dark? You are on the Dark Lord's side? And the Head has little favor of you being here, that means he _has_ sided with the light… is there any other light figurehead besides Dumbledore?"

"No," Harry shook his head. "There is no one… Dumbledore must have been corresponding with someone before he died… There is the Minister but he's nothing of significance." Harry shrugged. "I'll think more on it, but as of now, I don't know."

The two vampires blinked at him. "What?" Harry asked.

"Nothing," Keiran stood up, brushing at his robes. "You should get some sleep; I'll be waking you at the same time tomorrow. Regulus, off you go." His cousin stood up just as swiftly and gracefully as the Hand of Guild.

"You should know…" Harry started off quietly, looking at the floor. "That she died."

From the corner of his eye, he could see both the vampires looking at him. "Who died?" Regulus asked coldly.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "Narcissa." Glowing green eyes locked with dark green. "She died of the _Lewd_ disease. I just thought you should know. She said you and her were close as children and all…"

Regulus took a deep breath, trying to compose himself and not show the raw feeling of loss. He succeeded, but Harry could feel it anyway. "So much for pureblood superiority, egh? You inbred and they die anyway." The vampire grinned. "She's in a better place, Harrison." He reached out and ruffled his hair.

Harry smiled at the attempted comfort and watched as Regulus turned swiftly and left the room. Probably to grieve.

"Master," Harry lifted himself from the bed and stopped Keiran before the man could leave as well. The Hand turned to him expectantly. "I think it's time you know what a Seer can do." Keiran raised his eyebrows, allowing that much emotion to come through. The yellow eye surveyed Harry before he shut the door behind him, entering deeper into the room. "Sit, please," Harry motioned across the bed from his own sitting form.

"I guess Seer and assassins are much more alike than they'd like to admit." Harry started as he watched Keiran sit as far away as he could with a cool air about him. "We both like the secrecy from humanity; hardly anyone knows what a Seer can really do. We also like to stay neutral, most of the time." Harry said dryly, thinking of himself. "And we can kill easily."

"And you are part of the dark," Keiran murmured, leaning closer. "What are you? A Death Eater?" Harry was surprised the vampire knew that, considering how long he'd been out of the wizarding world.

"No," Harry pursed his lips. "I am…an equal to Lord Voldemort."

The vampire observed him quietly. "So you are important to this war growing." It wasn't a question. "I'm guessing, you're not planning on staying here then." Harry focused on the way Keiran shut off his expression.

"No," Harry frowned. "Is that a problem?"

Keiran cocked his head to the side, nonchalant. "Of course not, Regulus hinted at it anyway. Assassins usually live with their families until they're called for assignments. You must realize that if you pass your assassin exams, you'll be called in to do assignments, correct?" Harry gave him a perturbed look. Of course he knew that. The vampire grinned, showing his incisor. "Continue on with what Seer do, I'm oddly interested."

Harry leaned forward. "We can See visions, that's the basic ability…"

And so he confessed his abilities to his Master. Not even Voldemort knew his full potential. But considering Keiran and he were going to be with each other for more than a few weeks, maybe months, Harry would clue the vampire in.

It was just a small sacrifice for Keiran attempting to train around his Seer.

And Harry was sure Keiran would keep his word and help Harry grab hold of his emotions and keep them while training as an assassin. Harry accepted the fact that he would need help with this. Sometimes, relying on yourself for everything became weary and overtime, mistakes became plentiful and severe.

For the first time in ages, Harry reached out and allowed someone to help him stand.

He just hoped that it would work out.


	27. Now That I'm Unchained

** Chapter Twenty Seven: Now That I'm Unchained **

Looking into the mirror, his eyes landed on the Seer mark. It was gold, no longer coal black. For the life of him, he couldn't find it in himself to really _care._ He was almost a completed assassin now. Over _five_ months… it had taken a long hard path, but he succeeded. Now all he had to do was complete his challenges and become an official assassin. After which, he'd go back into the wizarding world and destroy the light.

Harry looked at his reflection. He hadn't looked this good for a long time. His pale skin was all but glowing and his spine and ribs no longer stuck out disgustingly. The brilliant green eyes had darkened considerably, due to his lack of contact with his emotions, but they looked harder, more dangerous.

Perhaps, after the war, he could get in touch with his Self again. But he couldn't risk it now. Not now. His eyes lowered to the scar across his stomach and around his side. Emotions had almost cost him his life.

It had been a weekly match between him, and none other than little giant. He'd been four weeks into his training and Keiran was forced to accept the match. But it wouldn't be to the death, his Master had made that clear as he stood between Harry and little giant to begin the duel. Students were surrounding the platform of their match- and that was Harry's downfall.

He had kept his own against the little giant. In fact, he had done splendidly. He had felt Keiran's pride from the sidelines and that's where his arrogance and emotions came in the way. He still remembered the boy who had murmured the words 'little fag' up at him. It had been a boy with dark hair in his face and dark, almost black eyes. Standing in front of the mirror presently, Harry wondered why he had even let that bother him. But he had then. He took the pole he had been handling as his weapon against little giant and threw it in the boy's face.

He remembered the feeling of smugness as he watched the boy from the sidelines go down, blood staining his face. But his _emotions_ had blinded him, and that's when his real opponent, little giant, had thrashed his dagger across his stomach and around his side.

Fingers traced the scar fondly. Without that incident, Harry would have never been able to succeed this quickly. Becoming an assassin would have never been within his grasp as it was now.

But… there was something still there. He could feel it within himself. It churned disgustingly in his stomach, reminding him his Seer wasn't completely gone as it should have been. His mother had wanted him to succeed… but…

Harry brought his fingers up to clutch his hair, pulling at the roots. His body shook and an alien tightening knotted his stomach, almost like a snakes coil.

And his head shot up without his consent. _Something_ was moving his body for him. His fingers dropped from his head on their own accord and he leaned closer into the mirror. And then he saw the source of his problem.

Instead of dim green eyes, crimson took their place. The pupils were split, like a serpent's and they looked at his fading Seer mark…

And then the _emotions_ licked his body like a burning flame.

Anger.

Desperation.

Loss.

" _You promised,_ " his mouth parted in snake language, a language he hadn't spoken for over four months. _"You_ lied!"

Around him, the candles flickered and the floor caked over with ice from his raw magic, from _their_ magic they shared together. The mirror trembled and Harry attempted to shake off Voldemort's hold.

His fists rose on their own and slammed themselves into the mirror. Harry gasped, feeling his wrists and hands cut from the glass. Voldemort left him as Harry hit the floor, his head cracking on the ice bellow him. His body shook at the raw emotions and the blood on his hands stained the ice from beneath him. And then he remembered. He remembered himself. How he vowed to Voldemort that he would succeed.

This wasn't succeeding.

He wasn't succeeding, he was a failure.

After all this time, he'd thought he was doing the right thing by becoming cold.

Green eyes watched the crimson blood pour on the ice. What a fool he's been…

"Harrison!" Keiran stepped inside the bathroom and with one stride, he was kneeling beside him. "What-," Harry was pulled in the vampire's arms and he felt his body being lifted from the floor.

Blackness curled around his vision and he went unconscious to the real world. Of course, that didn't' mean his mind stayed at rest like his body, because he found himself in a familiar place he hadn't visited for over four months.

But there was no one here.

"Self?" Harry spoke icily. He clenched his jaw, trying to feel emotions. But they weren't there. They were away, completely out of his reach. And Self wasn't here to help him. He wondered briefly if this was what Regulus felt when his Seer left him completely. Did the man feel alone as he tried to reconnect with his Seer? Did he realize, just too late, that he could never grab hold of his emotions again and be that powerful Seer he once was? Or did he feel happy that he no longer had emotional attachments to his Self?

"Self!" Harry yelled, standing in the dark of nothingness. "I'm sorry!" He screamed, spreading his arms. "I'm sorry!" he repeated again, hearing his voice echo around him. Harry collapsed on the ground, his hands and knees holding him up.

"Are you really sorry?" A voice, sounding so familiar, spoke up from the shadows. Harry's head reared up, squinting into the blackness to see a shape about the same size as him standing across from him.

"Self," Harry got up from the floor, his chin up. "I though you'd left."

"I did," the voice said coolly. "I was on my way to become another Self for someone who deserves me." Self inched deeper into the shadows and Harry felt his heart give a leap.

"Please don't go," Harry whispered. "I said I was sorry… I need you." He swallowed.

"Funny," Self drawled. "It took you a Dark Lord, the infamous emotionless man, to make you feel emotions again. You went for a long time without me, why would you need me to become a powerful assassin? Hmm?"

Harry shakily sat on the floor, never hearing Self so harsh and cold. "I…" he hesitated. "I was blinded; I thought I'd succeed better if I didn't have any emotions." Silence. "They would have killed me if I didn't hide my emotions and act on them." Silence again. "Self-,"

"You failed." Self whispered. "I put up with this assassin bullock because you convinced _me,_ yourself, that you could succeed. And you know what? You didn't. You failed." Harry breathed deeply, shutting his eyes. "And you know what else, Harrison? You are a failure at everything you've ever done."

Harry winced, frowning. "I-,"

"All your life, you've always wanted to be something you're not." Self stepped from the shadows, his green eyes glowing. "It's pathetic. You always want to be something that others have wanted you to be. Your father shaped you, those pathetic people you wanted as friends shaped you, that manipulative old coot shaped you, and this assassin shit…your mother wanted it, Regulus wanted it… but did you _really_ want it? Or were you just doing it to prove them all wrong?" Self spat down at him.

Harry closed his eyes, breathing deeply. "You're right." He admitted. "Of course you're right…" he opened his eyes at his double. "I did this to try to prove them all wrong. And all my life, I've been what everyone else wanted me to be."

Self crouched down, his face still hard. "What do _you_ want to be, Harrison?"

He couldn't lie to himself.

Green eyes stared into the mirror image of himself. "I want to be a Seer."

Self's expression softened somewhat. "Why do you think you're not good enough? Why do you think you're not strong enough? You were strong enough before coming to the assassins."

"I was meant to be here." Harry started. "Regulus said I was destined to be here."

Self gave a mocking grin. "You were." He agreed. "Did you ever think it was because of this conversation? If you hadn't come to the assassins, we would have never had this conversation. You would have never seen your flaws… of trying to be someone you're not. Or maybe you were meant to be here to change Regulus. Being a Seer, you had the power to give him back emotions… the same goes with Keiran. He enjoys your presence, simply because he feels human once again, around you."

"Or _maybe_ ," Self sneered ,continuing. "It's because as a Seer, you are more powerful than any assassin can hope to be. If you're just an assassin, you're average. You will never be able to help bring down the Head of the Assassin Guild. All those reasons could be why you were supposed to be here, Harrison."

"It all comes down to me being a Seer," Harry realized. "I was destined to fail here…" he sobered.

"No," Self disagreed. "You were meant to be here, to succeed in being a Seer, Harrison, not a cold hearted assassin."

He remembered the scar across his stomach and side. "But my duel I had the first-,"

Self gave a hiss in disgust. "It was your bloody _first_ match. Of course you would have been distracted. There you go again, thinking you have to be perfect, perfect for everyone but _yourself._ " Harry frowned deeply, narrowing his eyes. "You didn't give yourself time to work on combining your Seer and assassin. I'll tell you this much. You will never be an assassin, Harrison. But you can be a Seer with the moves of an assassin. Keiran has taught you well; combine them together as they should be."

"I'm sorry," Harry started again. "I know my mistakes… I see them."

Self reached out to touch his shoulder. "I know you do."

"You'll stay with me?" Harry asked, allowing himself to be vulnerable. It was himself after all.

"If you stay true to yourself, Harrison, I'll always be here." Hands took his own. "Its time you leave the assassins. You need to go back to the wizarding world."

"I _am_ strong enough," Harry convinced himself; giving a nod.

"You were _always_ strong enough." Self argued back. "The Dark Lord has waited long enough for you. You need to go back to him. You've missed a lot of visions." Harry snapped his eyes up at Self. "You're father is in Azkaban, Harry. Your brother has the _Lewd_ disease. The dark side is struggling, the werewolves aren't corresponding with the Dark Lord… and he's having trouble negotiating and recruiting. It's time you show the world your true self, no?"

Harry felt sick. "That's all happening?"

Damned Greyback.

"As much as Voldemort would like to hide how he's losing, he _is_ struggling." Self grinned. "He needs you."

"I can't just leave the assassins. They'll hunt me down if I don't finish my last task in becoming an assassin."

"Whoever said you can't finish that last task?" Self grimaced. "Take what Keiran taught you and use your Seer. You'll find that emotions are far more superior to no emotions. I just wish you would have seen that sooner."

"You must think me as a child." Harry spat. "I was so stupid…"

"You ** _are_** a child, Harrison." Self pulled away. Harry's eyes widened at the comment. "You are a mere sixteen year old. Just because you're a child, doesn't mean you're not powerful and mature for your age. Everyone makes _mistakes,_ Harry. Even adults. Yes you made a major mistake in avoiding me, yourself and your emotions, but perhaps it was meant to happen." Self slowly disappeared in the shadows.

" _Be true to yourself and you will succeed."_

With Self's parting words, Harry woke from his unconsciousness, feeling better than he had in years. He felt a weight being lifted from his shoulders and he laid still. Self was right, _he_ was right. He had always crumbled under other people's wishes and desires to be something else, something who he wasn't, and that had affected him. Never once had he done things that he wanted to do.

But now, now he felt weightless.

He wanted to succeed in the last task in becoming an assassin, but he wanted to succeed because he used both his Seer and assassin abilities. And it was time for him to go back to the wizarding world. They needed him and he needed them. Voldemort especially, as much as he'd like to hide that fact from everyone and everything.

The Dark Lord _wanted_ him back as well.

"I'm sorry," a voice spoke from the side of him. Harry slowly opened his eyes, looking over at Keiran. The man was sitting in a chair at his bedside, starring at him. "I failed you." Harry frowned, at the words, realizing he had said them to Self not too long ago. "I told you I could train you with your Seer. I was wrong."

Harry looked down at his bandaged hands and then slowly moved his arm up near his head. His fingers touched his Seer mark, caressing it lovingly. Harry's mark was facing the opposite way Keiran was sitting, of course he wouldn't see that his mark was now a brilliant onyx. "Master Keiran," Harry started, giving the man a grin. "It was completely _my_ fault. I should have never stepped foot in this castle."

Keiran frowned at him. Harry turned his cheek, showing the full-fledged mark. The vampire seemed to move his shoulders in relief. "No matter what you say, Harrison, I'm glad you did come." The usual cold man gave a true smile. And Harry was reminded what Self said.

Perhaps he was destined to come to the assassins in order to make Regulus and Keiran feel again. Of course, it could have been because he needed to help the two vampires defeat the Head of the Assassin Guild. If he hadn't come here, he would have never met these two.

Keiran leaned forward and took his hand. "Without you, I don't think the assassins would have a chance of staying hidden. We need you, with your power, to help us against the Head of the Guild."

Harry grinned. "Is that all, Master?" Keiran hesitated, not used to Harry's outright expressions. It had been four months. Four months since he had felt emotions and Harry would never understand how someone could live without them. He would never abandon his Seer again. Without waiting for the vampire to reply, Harry looked up at the ceiling. "I need to go back to the wizarding world, Master. It's time for me to go home."

Keiran dropped Harry's hand, leaning back in his seat. "When do we go?"

Blinking, Harry slowly sat up, wincing when he felt his head give a sharp throb. "We?"

"Of course," Keiran leaned forward again. "The Head is getting deeper into the war, Harrison." They hadn't talked about this topic since that day in his room. "I'm willing to follow you into the wizarding world with a selected few assassins and Guild members. But if we fight on your side, you must promise me that you'll keep our identity and everything about us silent."

Harry nodded. "I wouldn't think anything of it, Master."

Keiran clasped his hands over Harry's bandaged one. "Then let's get you prepared for your last task."

** -SSC- **

Grinning, Harry dodged a punch from Keiran, flipping backward gracefully and sideswiping the vampire with his feet. It was almost impossible to bring down the vampire, but over the course of four months, he stayed in the duel longer and longer. No one, no mere human, could defeat a vampire, not with their speed and lightning quick reflexes. Keiran always slowed for Harry, but he never made it easy…

Presently, the man was fighting with all his strength, with all his vampire quickness. They had agreed on it, wanting to see how Harry had improved. And just for fun… _fun._

The vampire grabbed his foot and yanked him on his arse.

Harry grunted, going done heavily on the mats. It was different fighting with his emotions… but he knew he could never be without them, which is why he would try to fight _with_ them, rather then against them.

He jumped quickly to his feet, closing in on Keiran with quick punches. The vampire stepped back, placing his hands up as a shield and catching each of his fists. Harry growled. What use was it to fight against a vampire?

Keiran gave him a wicked grin, using his hold on Harry's hands and flipping the human around and on the ground once again. Clapping echoed across the training room and Harry looked up from the floor to watch a dark haired vampire slowly make his way inside the room. The man was a few inches taller than Harry and plenty inches short than Keiran. Dark brown hair went down to the man's shoulders in waves.

"My, you _are_ improving." Cold black eyes drank in Harry's form on the mat. Keiran stiffened, loosing his amusement with the fight. "When you came here, you could hardly stand against Keiran's human, let alone get a few throws at his vampire."

Harry slowly stood; his face stone. He knew who this was. He'd only seen the Head of the Assassin Guild once, but he'd never forget him. This was the first time the vampire had talked with him though. The first time they met, Harry had just arrived, looking pathetically weak against Keiran. Granted, he still didn't have thick muscles like most of the assassins, but Keiran warned him he would never be buff. His Master trained him to be a deadly grace, not a brute force.

Sadly, he was still his petite self, only a much healthier glow about him.

He stood, barefoot and shirtless before the Head. "Harrison, I'd like to formally introduce you to Master Akira, the Head of the Assassin Guild." The stare was intimidating, but being around both Keiran and Voldemort made Harry immune.

Staring stonily at the Master vampire, Harry gave a swift bow. "Master," he said in greeting.

He felt Akira slowly circle him, almost the same way Keiran had done the first time they had met. Keiran was a stiff as a statue, his yellow eye cold and unfeeling. "I heard much about you, Harrison Malfoy." Akira murmured coming back around to stare stoically at Harry. "I hear that you are ready to take your last exam in becoming an assassin. Keiran thinks you're ready, do you agree?"

"I agree fully with my Master, yes." Harry spoke softly, unperturbedly.

"It's only been four months. What can another year hurt, hmm?" Harry refused to stiffen at the statement. Akira had to be working with a light wizard, he just had to be. The Head already knew about him and he was trying to get Harry to stay longer. And Harrison knew that the wizarding world, the dark side in particular, was slowly disappearing. If he were to stay another year, Harry knew the light side would crush the dark completely.

If Akira had been working for Voldemort, Harry knew the Dark Lord would have already convinced Akira to bring Harry to him.

"I see you still have the Seer inside you," cold fingers reached out to grab his chin. Behind Akira, Keiran tensed slightly. "Do you think you could be a successful assassin while you hold so many emotions?"

"Yes, Master, I believe I can be more than proficient."

His face was still held in the Head's hold. Harry was looking down, knowing it would be labeled disrespectful if he kept eye contact. "Is that so?" Akira drawled. "Well, we'll just have to see about that at your last task, won't we?" The cold fingers let him go but Harry remained where he was. "You'll be dueling for your last task, Harrison."

Dueling? Was that it? Harry had done a few duels against the students in his stay here and had won every one of them besides his first.

"To the death of course," Akira continued and Harry had to hold his breath in order to hide his stiffening. "You will be dueling against another star pupil, like yourself. Like you, he will be competing to become an assassin and his task will be to kill you in battle." Akira gave a chuckle. "I'm sure you remember young Zachary here." Harry looked up and met eyes with a dark stare.

It was the boy from his first match. Not little giant, but the one from the sidelines that had caused Harry to loose control over his emotions. The one he threw the crowbar at. The boy's nose was crooked still and Harry resisted the urge to grin.

Akira's hand landed on Zachary's shoulder. "I took a hand in training him myself. And, as I know that Keiran is a good Master, I'm sure this will be an eventful fight." Akira's mouth twitched. "Especially with a Seer fighting." The Head actually chuckled.

Zachary smirked as well, his eyes hard on Harry. "I hope you don't let your emotions control you, like last time. It wouldn't such a fair fight then." The boy spoke fluidly, just as fluidly as any pureblood. Harry licked his lips, cocking his head to the side.

"I wouldn't be too sure on that," he whispered back. Of course he would let his emotions out. His Seer could easily destroy this boy in front of him. Zachary sneered at him before Akira turned his shoulders and led him toward the exit.

"The match will take place at sunset," Akira drawled, still amused. "Don't train him too hard beforehand, Keiran. I know how much you dislike losing."

Keiran remained quiet, watching as the two made their way out the training arena. Once the door slammed shut, the vampire turned to survey Harry. "You're ok," Keiran didn't ask, he reassured, placing a hand on Harry's small shoulder. "He's bigger than you, doubtless, but you know to rely on your reflexes and grace. You're quick with the dagger as well." The vampire lowered his face, placing it close to Harry's. "You can kill, can't you?"

Green eyes flashed. "Of course I can."

Keiran grinned back. "They'll try something underhanded, I already know as much. Don't be afraid to use your Seer; just don't use your magic."

Harry gave a short laugh. "It looks like you're more worried than I am, Master."

The vampire gave a deep sigh, placing his other hand on Harry's shoulder. "Keiran, Harrison." Seeing Harry's doubtless face, the vampire scoffed. "We'll be fighting the war together, Harrison. Already, I know you're a figurehead for the dark. I don't want you calling me Master in front of your people."

"I'm not ashamed to call you my Master," Harry lifted his chin. "They should know to fear you." He paused. "Just as a forewarning though, don't expect much respect from the Dark Lord. He isn't very open to…equality." Merlin knows, it took him more than a good year to get that through the man's head.

"Dark Lord's are always arrogant," Keiran shot back. Harry gave a small laugh. Keiran always thought _he_ was arrogant.

"What are you going to do if we, the dark side, win the war?" He asked in all seriousness.

Keiran moved his hands from Harry. "Assuming that the Head is taken care of and his loyal assassins," Keiran started with a quiet murmur. "I assume I would bring the rest of the assassins back here and start anew."

"As Head of the Guild," Harry wondered out loud. "You'll make a good leader, Master."

The yellow eye stared at him. A soft smile played the vampire's lips. "Thank you, Harrison." His Master paused. "I suppose you wouldn't accept the offer to become a member of my Guild, will you? And become one of us?"

Shifting to the balls of his feet, Harry smiled sadly. "Regrettably, my place is in the destroyed wizarding world. And I wouldn't know how my Seer would react with being a vampire." Quite frankly, Pythia told him Seer probably have a good chance of becoming nonexistent if they become a magical creature, like a werewolf or a vampire, but she didn't know for sure. No Seer has ever attempted- or risked- such a thing.

"The offer will always stand," Keiran whispered. "And I don't think I'll stop asking. You've done me some good, coming here." Even if Harry didn't accept the position as a Guild member, he knew he'd be back to run assignments for Keiran when the man needed him. He'd have no choice but to agree to come back for his task.

"What is this? A heart to heart?" Harry tore away from Keiran's intense stare toward Regulus' striding form. The man had a knowing look on his face as he all but glided in the arena. "News is out that my cousin here is having his last task-," he paused, looking at Harry. "Thank Merlin you're back at being a Seer." Before Harry could blink the man patted him on the back. Harry successfully kept his balance, shooting Regulus a look.

The vampire was a lot like his older brother Sirius. Merlin. Perhaps Harry had been wrong. Maybe Sirius didn't use jokes and laughs as his mask. Harry knew some of it was an act, to cover up his dark side, but perhaps there was truth to it. After all, Regulus, an assassin, was just as bothersome.

"I thought you were going to turn out like me for a second and then we'd all be just _cold,_ unemotional…"

"Regulus," Keiran warned softly. "Have you done your task?"

The Black paused, looking over at the Hand. "Of course, Master Keiran," he threw Harry an abashed look. "Honestly, he doesn't believe in me… his ex-apprentice." Regulus' hands carded through Harry's hair in a fatherly caress. Harry refused to sink into the touch. His mother had touched him like that… Regulus pulled at the few stray curls in Harry's hair. "I told as many loyal as I could."

"What are you talking about?" Harry swatted Regulus' hold away. "Telling whom what?"

"Regulus has told the assassins worth being loyal to about the Head's intentions of placing us into the limelight in the middle of the war. We simply gave them a choice of joining us as we leave…"

Harry gave a tight nod. "You're causing a bigger rift."

"Mmm," Regulus hummed. "No one will act upon it until Keiran takes the first step. By the end of tonight, after your match, after you _win_ ," Regulus paused, winking at Harry. "We will act. Keiran and I will gather those who will fight against the Head and follow you into the wizarding world."

Pursing his lips, he glanced at a serene Keiran. "And is it an even split?"

The vampire gave a grin. "We'll just have to wait and see when the time comes down to it."

Harry turned away from the two. Could he win this fight? Could he take on the Head's own apprentice? _"Be true to yourself and you will succeed."_ His Self murmured inside him again. Harry gave a grin.

Yes, he could do this.


	28. Open Your Eyes Hypnotized

** Chapter Twenty Eight: Open Your Eyes Hypnotized **

"You'll do fine," Alex spoke near his ear. If Harry hadn't felt his destroyed aura approaching, he might have been startled by the sudden voice near his ear. Brilliant green eyes directed their attention toward Alex, Regulus' apprentice. The boy was cold, no longer carrying his bright aura. Instead, the bright dimmed into something far more…insane. Alex had always been a loose nut, and it showed through. Harry narrowed his eyes at the boy, looking over his shoulder at Regulus.

"Do you train all your apprentices to mirror your cousin?"

Regulus looked flabbergast. "I don't know what you're talking about, Harrison."

Raising his eyebrows, Harry watched Keiran make his way over. "Bellatrix? Does it ring a bell?"

His cousin winked at him. "Good luck, Harrison. You'd better make it out of here or we'll have to deal with an angry Dark Lord…" Regulus took Alex around the shoulders and pushed him toward the arena. Everyone was going to be watching the fight between the Head's apprentice and the Hand's apprentice. Harry tried not to get himself too nervous, because he knew he'd succeed.

"You're not nervous, are you?" Keiran drawled, placing his arm around Harry and guiding him further down the corridor, away from the arena. Harry took comfort in the gesture, leaning into the hard and cold chest of his Master.

"No," Harry replied quietly. "I think I'm just ready to go back home… my Seer, he told me things were bad. And Voldemort thinks I've turned into a cold hearted assassin. No offense, Master."

"None taken," the vampire replied amused. They stepped in the shadows and Keiran let Harry go, holding him at the shoulders at arms length away. With an assessing hand, Keiran traced his jaw and neck. "You're tense, have you stretched?" Harry refused to let his thoughts wander on the hand on his skin. Keiran had done it _before_ why was everything so different now?

"I've stretched, Master, yes." He replied wearily.

Keiran looked at him with his yellow eye. "Come on," he turned Harry around and forced the smaller closer to him. Harry tensed as he felt hands on his shoulder's, kneading them in a massage. "I want to apologize again for failing you." Harry frowned, confused. "I thought I could keep your Seer with you, but I was unsuccessful."

"You tried though," Harry murmured; closing his eyes as his Master destroyed his tension. "I can't really blame you. How can someone, who has been trained not to feel anything, expect to keep their apprentice's emotions in tack?" He sighed. "It doesn't matter now. I learned my lesson." He pulled away from the massage, feeling a brief sensation of loss. And it didn't come from him.

He stood stiffly, facing away from Keiran. The vampire was feeling things for him. Harry took a shaky breath, clenching his fists together. This couldn't happen. Not when Harry had Voldemort. Perhaps if he just tried to _ignore_ it, Keiran would either get the hint or he wouldn't say anything about it. Harry was guessing the later. The Master vampire was probably ashamed at what he was feeling anyway. Harry, himself, felt somewhat ashamed that it was his Seer affecting things. That was the only downside of having the powers of a Seer.

"Do you have your dagger?" Keiran asked.

"Yes, Master," Harry sheathed his dagger looking at the unique blade. He had fallen in love with it ever since his mother placed it in his hands. "I'm ready." He flashed the vampire a grin, bowing to him at the waist. "You've trained me well, Master Keiran; I would like to thank you for all you've done." What he said rang true. When he had abandoned his emotions and his Seer, he distinctively remembered how hesitant Keiran became when he noticed Harry's change. The vampire had tried, countless of times, to try to talk with Harry about his loss of emotions. And Harry had tuned him out, thinking he knew everything.

He was touched that Keiran had tried his hardest to get Harry's emotions to remain. Even if it was in vain.

Keiran laid his hand on Harry's bowed head.

The vampire didn't speak back, but he didn't have to. Keiran knew Harry's Seer ability and he sent his emotions through with his touch; affection, thanks, gratitude, pride… Harry smiled as he felt the powerful hand remove itself from his head. "Come Harrison. It's time for your last task." Keiran turned his heel and walked toward the arena. By now, Harry could sense multiple of bodies inside, all waiting for the match. "Remember child, your Seer will aid you. Zachary probably has a few underhanded tricks up his sleeve from Akira."

Harry felt his heart begin to beat wildly as he stepped foot into the arena. It was dim inside, the only lightened area were the mats in the center of the room. It was a wide fighting range, one that Harry preferred when he fought with many flips and quick maneuvers. He wasn't a close rage fighter, he was touch and go. Some would say he was too jumpy, but Keiran denied it, telling him many smaller assassins fought in such a way.

Off to the side, in the deeper shadows, spectators watched and observed. Harry knew that every assassin and every Guild member would be in attendance. Not just because of a historic fight between the Head and Hand's apprentice but because of what was surely going to happen _after_ the fight. A split. Between assassins who wanted to stay in the shadows, away from humanity and then those assassins who wanted to follow the corrupted Head, who wanted limelight and to change their course of privacy.

Harry took a deep breath as he slipped off his shoes. Cold mats cushioned his skin, sending a small sense of serenity through him. Keiran approached behind him and at the opposite end, Zachary and the Head, Akira stood unmoving in the center. Keiran led him over. Harry was forced to bow to Zachary, his rival, while Keiran and Akira had to do the same gesture to one another.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Akira stay stiff, not returning the bow to Keiran. "Good luck, Keiran." Akira whispered softly, smiling. "You're going to need it." With that, he turned away, leading his apprentice further on the opposite end.

"Bastard," Harry hissed. "He shows no respect to you, Master."

"Patience is a virtue, Harrison." Keiran murmured, barely moving his mouth. "He'll soon get what's coming to him." The vampire paused. "But he is a bloody bastard, isn't he?" Harry grinned up at his Master, slowly untying his gold tassel around his waist. As was customary, before a duel, he got on his knees and presented his tassel. Odd, but in a way, it showed respect to his teacher.

Keiran took the tassel and gathered his cloak from him. "You'll do fine… you're heart is far too quick right now and you haven't even started." The vampire scolded.

"Sorry," Harry muttered. "I'm…excited. Not frightened." Keiran gave a quiet tisk.

Harry straightened up, placing his dagger in his holster at his hip. The taskmaster made his way over, bringing with him a long sword. Harry accepted the sword, nodding in approval at the taskmaster. It would appear as if they were allowed a sword for this duel. Other duels, he had used a crowbar, a Bo staff, or just hands. At least he was efficient with the sword and dagger. Across from him, Zachary approached the center, his clutch on the sword lazy and arrogant.

Harry turned his back on Keiran and made his way to the center as well. The taskmaster stood between the two fighters, eyeing both of them through lowered lids. He'd be the vampire that made sure the fight started fair. And he'd be the one to declare the winner.

"At the ready," taskmaster ordered.

Twin swords clashed together, each putting pressure on their opponent. Beneath his lashes, Harry surveyed his opponent. Zachary was at least four inches taller than him. His naked chest revealed the young man's muscular build and scars. He was definitely heavier than Harry in muscle and height and from what Harry heard from Regulus, Zachary was also quick. Of course Akira would take on the star pupil as an apprentice… to kill him off.

Harry was sure of it.

Akira wanted to off Harry. And whomever he was working with wanted to kill him as well.

He was more than sure Zachary had a deceitful trick up his sleeve. With a calm air about him, Harry slowly planted Seeds in his opponent, Seeds of uncertainty and insecurity. It would be slow, not so much as an onslaught of emotion. The boy would be suspicious if he all of a sudden felt a burst of emotion, not when he didn't feel any. Through the battle, Harry would have to concentrate on the Seeds, making them grow.

With his sword against Zachary's he felt the mere strength behind the boy. Almost…suspicious strength.

"Begin," and the two didn't waste a second.

Harry and Zachary danced around one another, parrying and thrusting. Each strike from Zachary made Harry breathless. It was almost like dueling with Keiran… how? Harry drove more force behind his attack and backed his opponent up a few steps before slicing the boy's forearm. Blood spilt but Zachary barely even flinched as he twisted his arm around, disarming Harry. Sweat dropped in Harry's eyes as he glanced at his flying sword that clattered close to Keiran's feet.

Zachary grunted as he lunged at Harry, blade exposed.

It barely scraped his neck before Harry thrust his body backwards in a flip, his foot kicking Zachary heavily in his jaw. In mid back flip, as his hands touched the floor, he twisted his body and side flipped away from the lunging sword he knew would be waiting for his descent. Once his feet hit the mat, he ducked underneath a sword and grabbed Zachary's elbow, twisting it sharply, hearing something crack.

The boy gave a pained grunt, dropping his sword.

They were on equal grounds. Harry's neck was bleeding, Zachary's forearm was bleeding, and they were swordless.

Harry crouched down low, mirroring Zachary as they circled one another. With his Seer, he urged the Seeds to grow. Zachary roared, flipping his dagger out of his holster and lunging. The blade nicked Harry across the chest as he cartwheeled away. By the time his feet hit the mat, he was feeling dizzy.

He blinked, giving a look at Keiran across the room, and stumbling on his arse. The dagger didn't cut a large gash across his chest, yet it felt as if he lost a lot of blood…

The boy's dagger had a type of poison on it.

Harry hissed, using his magic to clear his vision. "Check his dagger!" Keiran hissed at the taskmaster. The taskmaster made a move to step forward, but a halting hand from the Head of the assassins stopped him in his place.

Harry flipped himself off the floor, grabbing his dagger from his holster as Zachary came at him once again. His magic was allowing him to stand his ground, pushing aside the affects of the opponent's dagger. His feet took hold of the fight and danced gracefully around the bigger boy. With quick reflexes, he arched away from each thrust Zachary attempted with his poisoned dagger. He could feel the Seeds start to grow, almost at their critical point.

Keiran always smugly complimented Harry on his dagger skills. And Harry believed he did his Master proud as he placed small cuts all over the larger body. He could never, truly, go deep enough, but the boy was starting to lose blood because of the many gashes he had. Harry gave an intricate twist, catching Zachary at his vulnerable waist. His blade sliced a good portion of the boy and blood fell freely onto the mats.

Zachary snapped, dropping his dagger in a fit of rage.

With inhuman reflexes, he grabbed Harry's forearm and attempted to break it. But Harry flipped with the movement, bringing his body around and striking the boy at his temple with his heel.

Pity his dagger was lost in the motion, joining his sword across the mat toward his Master. Harry was dropped to the ground and he rolled into a summersault as the foot came down on him. He jumped up, evading the fist with a duck, but it hadn't been prepared for the opposite fist from plowing at his stomach. Green eyes widened and his mouth opened in a silent scream at the power behind the hit.

His small body flew a few feet before crumbling to the ground.

And Harry knew, then, that Zachary was ingesting vampire blood.

Vampire blood, in any human, would strengthen them and make them faster.

He gasped for air, feeling a rib come out of joint. With shaking fingers, he placed his hands on the mat, intending to push himself up or at least do a flip, but Zachary came at him in quick movements, taking him by the neck. His whole body was lifted in the air, causing his feet to dangle uselessly above the ground. Gasping for breath, blinding green eyes narrowed on his enemy. He _urged_ the Seeds to grow, causing Zachary to falter. His fingers loosened around his throat at the feelings of doubt coursing through him.

Harry brought his foot forward and dug it into the stab wound on the boy's stomach. Zachary screamed. Harry could see the Seeds working their magic. His opponent would have never showed any emotion, nor pain. But now…now he was acting on his anger. And _that_ would be his downfall.

The world spun as he was thrown roughly to the ground and a knee caught him in his stomach before he could drop. Harry coughed up salvia and blood as he felt his rib move once again. Before he could open his eyes or react, a foot kicked him, causing him to roll a good distance away.

Harry's body shook and he stumbled on his hands and knees, realizing he was near his sword and dagger once more. Zachary was slowly advancing, taking all the time in the world with his arrogance…because of the Seeds.

Looking down at his weapons, he knew he had to end this. Keiran's emotions were starting to get stronger and Harry _knew_ the vampire would interrupt if things got too far. Making sure Zachary's attention was on the sword, he nonchalantly slipped his dagger in the back of his pants. The cool steel reassured him as he stood up, making a show of having one free hand and the other around his sword.

And then he rushed forward.

Zachary picked his own sword up; doing exactly what Harry wanted him to do.

With a cold chuckle, Harry thrust his sword downward and up. As planned, Zachary bent downward just slightly, blocking his thrust. Unfortunately, he cut a decent size wound on Harry's forearm, but it was worth the price. Swiftly, Harry grabbed his dagger from behind his back with a quick reflex he sliced it across Zachary's bare and vulnerable neck.

Taking a step back, he watched the boy's face turn gray. A terrified surprise etched Zachary's face as the life liquid ran freely from his neck. Smirking, Harry wiped his blood soaked dagger on his black pants, watching as Zachary collapsed to the floor. Dead.

Clapping sounded through the dark arena and Harry had to swallow his surprise. He had forgotten that there were spectators.

The taskmaster took a step forward, opening his mouth to declare victory to Harry. But a blade cut straight through the man's neck, beheading and silencing him. Harry hardly had time to react when he saw another dagger heading his way. Before he could use his magic to block it, a hand reached out and snatched it, inches from his face.

Keiran stood strongly in front of Harry, his fingers white as he clutched the thrown dagger. "Very underhanded, Akira." Keiran whispered darkly, throwing the dagger down on the mat. The blade imbedded itself hilt up. "Giving vampire blood to your apprentice? Soaking his dagger with poison before the match?"

Akira stood calmly in front of Keiran, his expression neutral. "We all must make decisions in life, Keiran. We all must choose a side." The vampire smiled. "Just as you have just done."

And then everything erupted.

Harry had never seen vampires fighting each other. But it was amazing, fascinating almost. Keiran and Akira collided together, twisting and turning… it was all too hard for Harry to see properly with human eyes. The other vampires burst out in their own fights against one another, clearly showing Harry that Regulus' word _had_ spread throughout the assassins, and that the vampires and assassins were choosing their side as of now.

Hands dropped down on his shoulders, pulling him away. "Let's get you out of here." It was Regulus.

"I'm not leaving Keiran-,"

"He can hold his own. He'll be coming right after us. We've discussed this before your match; he'll stall long enough in order to get you _out_."

"I can use my magic," Harry argued, being literally pulled by the vampire. "Please Regulus,"

"Please just listen to me…just this _once_." Harry grabbed his cloak from the floor and followed his cousin out. Regulus still had a good hold on Harry's arm, forcing him to run beside the vampire.

They rushed down the stairs, further to the front of the stone castle. Harry had never seen outside and he had never _been_ outside since his stay here. It was odd running out of here. But he saw _why_ just seconds later. "No wonder why wizards can't find this place," he replied breathlessly, looking wide-eyed at the outside.

Regulus pulled him further out the castle. It was nothing but a black abyss. As they reached a cliff, Harry gave a yell, pulling back from Regulus' hold. It _wasn't_ a cliff. Just the end of solidness. It was almost if the assassin castle were floating on nothingness. "Jump," Regulus motioned. "And don't use your magic to levitate yourself; you'll have freaky consequences then. Just _jump_."

Harry breathed, feeling mistrust at Regulus' words. His cousin sighed. "Come on then, hold my hand like a little boy."

Before he could protest, Regulus took his hand and jumped.

Harry screamed; slamming his eyes shut as he felt himself fall.

** -SSC- **

Harry sat stiffly on the gravestone, watching as assassins appeared from the sky as shadows one after another. They moved in the darkness, barely even alerting Harry with their presence. There weren't many. Perhaps a good fifty or so. But the more Harry thought about it, the more he realized fifty _was_ mostly half of the total amount of assassins and Guild members. Good. At least they were evenly divided.

His magic was thrumming around him, holding him conscious still. The poison from the dagger was still in his system, but he refused to allow it to take over. There was so much he needed to accomplish before he relaxed.

His small form sat above an ivory gravestone, a headstone that spelt out the name _Narcissa Malfoy._ Green eyes tore away from the assassins and onto the grave. Fresh flowers were placed on the mound. Considering Lucius was in Azkaban, they must have been from Draco.

"She was a lovely woman," Regulus intoned quietly from beside him. "She saw the light in everyone."

"She did," Harry agreed, smiling fondly. "She didn't deserve that disgraceful death." Harry looked up at the dark clouds. "I always pictured her immortal." He gave a sad smile. "Or I pictured her dying in the middle of a fierce duel with her enemy. She'd look breathtaking as she fell, bringing her opponent down with her." Regulus didn't say anything to that, but Harry could feel him agree.

"Congratulations, my child." Cold hands came from the shadows and cupped his cheeks. "You are now an official assassin."

"Master," Harry grinned. "Thank you."

Harry looked around him. It was dark, easy to mold oneself into the shadows. But he watched as the assassins slowly moved forward, crowding together behind Keiran. All the assassins had hoods up and scarves across their faces, only showing their eyes. Keiran and Regulus both followed in dress. Harry supposed it was their customary outfit to wear as they went on their hunt for their victims.

Across each back held a sword and across each waist held a dagger. They were fit for anything.

Harry himself was bloodied and had his apprentice robes on. It didn't matter much, not when his mind was reeling with what steps to take now.

Keiran dropped his face, turning around to survey the crowds of assassins. "These are your followers, Harrison. They are completely loyal to me, thus they are loyal to you. Some of them stayed back with the students, protecting them, but these are your allies. They will listen to you and take orders. I trust them entirely. They also know the reason _why_ they're here." Keiran spoke up. "They wish to remain hidden, in our world. They wish our secrets to remain _secrets_. They do not want attention; they do not want the limelight, and they wish to stay neutral. We will fight this war, this one time, under your command, in order to accomplish our goals. And kill the Head of the Assassin Guild."

Harry's eyes widened a small fraction as Keiran got on one knee, bowing his head. "In our world, you were my student. You could barely defend yourself physically. It was my job to teach you, to guide you. But in this world, I am your follower, waiting for you to guide me and my people."

Behind Keiran, the assassins quietly got to their own knees.

Harry stood up from his position on his mother's grave and savored the picture just this once. Assassins, some powerful _vampires,_ were bowing before him. It was laughable, to know that just a few days ago, he was inferior to them, and now they were bowing to him, willing to serve. But he understood that it was right. Harry knew far more about this war. In _this_ world, he was far more excelled then them.

Grinning softly, he gave Keiran his hand. The vampire took it without a moment's hesitance and Harry forced him to stand up. "That means a lot to me, Master, thank you." He whispered, meaning it. "But don't ever bow to me again." It was difficult to see his Master bowing to _him_ , no matter the consequences.

Behind his head scarf, Harry knew the man was grinning.

"We have to give them a safe place to stay for now, while I gather… people." Harry murmured, more to himself than anyone. He needed to see Draco, Severus, Remus, and more importantly, Voldemort and the werewolves.

"Do you know someone you can trust well enough to house assassins?" Regulus spoke up.

"Oh," Harry flashed the man a smirk. "No, not particularly, but I know someone who owes me a debt. You may know him quite well."

** -SSC- **

"Harry?" Sirius opened the door a crack, looking out. The man looked horrible. "Is that really you?" Grey eyes glanced at the two figures on either side of him. Keiran and Regulus were both in their assassin uniform, veiling everything but their eyes. Or in Keiran's case, his eye.

"It's me Sirius," Harrison confirmed, raising his eyebrows coldly. "May we come in?"

Sirius had the audacity to flush slightly as he opened the door wider. "I haven't seen you…for ages. I'd thought that you'd left." Harry stepped through Grimmuald, feeling his two shadows on either side of him. "Where did you go?" The man asked, closing the door behind them.

"Ah," Harry licked his lips, looking around the old house, subconsciously searching to see if anyone else was present. There weren't any. "Around…" he cleared his throat. "We need to talk about what's happened in my absence… and its time you repaid me for Remus' life." The man looked grey as he led Harry to the sitting room.

"Of course," Sirius sat down heavily on the armchair. Harry openly eyed the half drunken brandy bottle. His cousin gave a sheepish grin and looked pointedly toward Keiran and Regulus who had all but morphed into the shadows.

"They are of no importance at the moment, Sirius." Harry calmly sat down on the chair across from Sirius. Keiran didn't want Harry telling _anyone_ their names as it was part of their secrecy, and Regulus especially, wanted to remain hidden. At least until he felt it right to come out to Sirius.

Sirius swallowed swiftly, turning his gaze back on Harry. "You look like hell," he eyed the crusted blood on Harry's face and neck. At least he didn't see what lay _under_ the cloak.

"Yes, well, at least _I_ have an excuse." Harry motioned to Sirius. "What happened while I was away?"

The Head of the Black family shakily reached for the brandy bottle. His fingers caressed the neck of it in a calming matter, taking a deep breath. "A lot, or, at least I think a lot has happened." He paused. "It looks good to be on the light side at the moment, Harry."

"It's a good thing you're light then, isn't it?" Harry asked dangerously, feeling himself grow agitated. Just how badly was the dark side? When he had left, things had looked up. But as he suspected, the light was overpowering.

"I'm not," Sirius whispered, frowning. "You could say I thought about what you said that day in the hospital wing, about the dark magic and the temptation…" Harry nodded. "I hadn't stepped foot in another Order meeting, especially when I heard Dumbledore was murdered." He flashed Harry a look. "Which, by the way, you are being charged with. You're declared a fugitive, Harry. For Dumbledore's murder and…Neville's disappearance." He looked uncertain.

Harry waved it off. It didn't surprise him and he frankly didn't care. "Go on,"

Sirius glanced at the fire. "I was guilty at first…not going to the Order meetings and such. And Remus surprisingly stayed with me, you were right. He felt betrayed by Dumbledore the day he left to go see the werewolves." Harry resisted the roll of his eyes. "We were both on edge about our decision and with you gone, our guilt was even stronger. But… it changed when the Ministry decided to take all the registered werewolves away."

"What?" Harry whispered, flabbergasted. "The Ministry took the werewolves away? Why?"

Sirius frowned, his face crumbling. "I don't know where or why. They just declared werewolves unfit for normal society. They took Remus away… Merlin, Harry, I wasn't sure what to do, thank Merlin you're back."

And then Harry realized why the Ministry took such a large step. "Vampires… they took them away because the vampires from the Assassin Guild are working for them. And vampires and werewolves don't mix." Harry said very quietly, knowing his two vampire companions would hear.

"What was that?" Sirius frowned, leaning forward.

"I said the Ministry is stupid for doing such a daring and foolish step." Harry flashed Sirius a look. "When did this happen?"

"About a month ago," Sirius confessed. "I didn't know what to do-,"

"What about Voldemort?" Sirius flinched, looking down. "You knew I supported him, why didn't you go to him?"

"Save for the obvious reason that he'd kill me on the spot _without_ you beside me? Simply because I don't know where he is." Sirius looked hesitant for a moment.

"What?" Harry pushed, feeling something tighten in his chest. "Hasn't Voldemort been making _any_ progress? Any news? He must be some threat to the Ministry."

Sirius licked his lips again. "The Ministry has a stronger force than the first war, Harry. The Aurors and Unspeakables are banded together _and_ the Order. They're a powerful group, or, groups, I should say…" he trailed off but with the look Harry was giving him, he continued. "The Dark Lord was a threat for a good few months, he attacked, destroying some of the Aurors and Ministry figureheads but just recently, a few weeks ago, he decided to break into Azkaban."

Harry frowned. Had Voldemort wanted to get his father out of Azkaban? Probably not just his father, but the other followers he had locked up as well.

"The dementors didn't sway from the Ministry and they defended Azkaban pretty good until the Aurors and Unspeakables showed up. As far as I know, the Dark Lord lost a lot of his Death Eaters, Harry."

The knot in his stomach tightened to a tenfold and he buried his face in his hand, showing his weakness. Merlin, he was worried for Tom. For _them_ , the dark. Things didn't sound too good. And the werewolves hadn't even backed them up. Greyback was going to _pay._ The Ministry was collecting werewolves, true, but they wouldn't be able to touch Greyback and his pack of wolves. Fenrir had no excuse for not joining with Voldemort.

"Hey," Sirius leaned forward, placing his hand on Harry's knee. "He's ok," the man started, hesitantly. "I know for a fact that the Dark Lord escaped…"

In his hand, Harry blinked back his fears and fright. He hadn't expected to react in such a way from hearing that news. From what Sirius said, Voldemort had held his own and was his own threat until a couple of weeks ago. It was time for Harry to find him. His Match. Merlin… was he a love sick teenager? Pathetic…

Harry dropped his hand, giving a small smile toward his second cousin. "Anything else happen?"

Sirius shook his head. "The Ministry is still looking for you, McGonagal is the new Headmistress and Snape," Sirius shuddered in disgust. "Is the new Deputy Headmaster. From what I gather, the man is no longer a Death Eater." Sirius gave Harry a look. "And I think your brother dropped out of Hogwarts." Ah, his little brother… pity Harry would make him go back to Hogwarts for a last task before he totally dropped out.

He stood up and Sirius stood as well. "I trust you're on my side now?" Harry questioned.

Sirius nodded. "I am."

"Good," Harry allowed a malicious smirk to cover his face. "Because I have a task for you… you may think of it as your _debt_ you owe me." Sirius took a deep breath, looking at a silent and still Keiran and Regulus. "I want you to _unplot_ this house. Anybody who ever remembers this house will become confused on where it is and will be unable to find it. I don't want _anybody_ , including myself, to be able to use the Floo Network. This house will be invisible to any magical folk that comes here and it will be warded…"

As he was speaking, he was striding toward the front door, a bemused Sirius following behind him. Regulus stood in his way and Harry watched, in amusement, as Sirius blanched at the figure, hesitantly going around him.

"Why all this secrecy? Are you using this house as a headquarters?"

"Something like that," Harry opened the door wide, nodding his head nonchalantly. Out of the shadows, one by one, assassins swiftly moved inside the house. Sirius flattened himself against the wall, watching the figures appear inside.

"Assassins?" He whispered hoarsely, looking wildly over at Harry. "You went to the assassins?"

Harry made sure all the assassins were inside before he closed the door. He gave a breathless gasp as his rib moved again, reminding him of his weakened state. "Yes, cousin, I did." Harry threw Sirius a smirk, easily covering his vulnerability.

"And you're still Seer?" Sirius stared at the mark on his cheek. "After what I told you happened to Regulus, you still decided to go?" Harry refused to glance at the mentioned brother and instead gave a nod.

"As of tonight, I am an official assassin." He played with the golden tassel around his waist, feeling the blood from his wounds stick and crust over, melding as one with his cloak. He batted his eyelashes. "And I'm still whole, aren't I?" Harry opened the door. "I'm going out; I want you to start on binding your blood with this house and working on those wards. Merlin knows you should know how to control the Black house when you're the last known heir…" he trailed off, glancing at Regulus.

Sirius nodded numbly, peeking over the corner at where he assumed the assassins went. Little did he know, there was no one _in_ that room. Harry repressed a smile at that and made his way outside.

To his surprise, Keiran and Regulus followed at his heels. "Don't you want to stay with your assassins?" He directed the question toward Keiran.

"I trust Ayden to take care of any issues." Keiran whispered softly. "Between him and Regulus, I will have trouble deciding who will be my Hand." _If he succeeds in killing the Head._

"Well," Harry flashed Regulus a grin. "There are always two hands to a head, why not just pick two?"

Regulus chuckled. "That was a terrible attempt at humor, Harrison." Harry laughed, wincing at his ribs as he did so.

"You need to be healed." Keiran ordered, touching Harry's waist. The cold hand felt remarkable soothing on his burning body. He assumed he had a fever with his fractured rib and also due to the poison. "I'm surprised you stayed standing this long, Harrison." His voice turned cold. "Akira tried every underhanded trick he could. Giving his apprentice blood… unholy unless his apprentice was part of the Guild."

"I survived, didn't I?" Harry knocked Keiran's hand away, straightening up. "I have many things to do before I lay down. Finding the Dark Lord is one of them." He held out both his hands to the two vampires. "I'll apparate with you both to the Dark Lord's hideout."

Cold hands engulfed his, holding on to _him,_ instead of the other way around.

Harry closed his eyes, concentrating on gathering his magic. Just for a moment, he had to take it away from his struggling body and toward apparating. As they cracked away and landed on cold ground, Harry collapsed, feeling the poison take its toll.

Keiran held him close, not allowing him to fall on the ground. "Harrison-," Keiran started worriedly, but Harry spread his magic once again, building it inside his body as a wall of support. The affects of the poison disappeared as he did so, allowing him to see clearly and stand up on his own. Using his magic so freely again, felt magnificent to him.

That was, until he caught sight of Voldemort hideout.

The house he had spent so much time in, was a pile of nothingness.

" _Merlin_ ," Harry breathed, staring at the shambles and dead bodies. He felt sick and he turned away, placing his hands on his knees to steady himself. The Dark Lord had to be alright. Harry would _feel_ something if his Match was dead. But then again, Voldemort wouldn't necessarily be dead, just not in existence.

How was he to know if the Dark Lord needed help? Wherever he was? What if the man was floating as a spirit, attempting to resurrect himself? Wouldn't he need help? But who would understand him? Who would be able to help him?

"Harrison," Regulus crouched down, placing his hands on his arms. Harry knew what he must look like to the two vampires. They assumed he was a leader of the dark, equal to Voldemort, but right now, he looked _pathetic._

Harry stood up straight, clearing his face. "There is one person that may know where the Dark Lord is," he held out his hands again. "I'm sure you'd like to meet my twin, Draco."

Two hands covered his again, both of them squeezing his in reassurance. They weren't fooled by his mask. After all, they were the ones that helped build it.

Clenching his jaw, he apparated to the Malfoy manor.


	29. Can You Hear Me

** Chapter Twenty Nine: Can You Hear Me **

The manor looked just like Harry remembered it. Clean, impressive, and rich. Everything about it reminded him of his mother. Narcissa loved the manor and he would often find her mulling about the manor, adjusting things to her liking.

"Impressive," Keiran murmured. "Your house?"

Regulus gave a snort. "Malfoy's were always known for their overwhelming sense of style." Harry tutted, guiding both of the vampires deeper into the dining room. "It's true," Regulus argued softly. "You have more money than you know what to do with it."

"If I recall," Harry drawled, frowning. "The Black family is just as well endowed." Regulus didn't respond, instead, he remained quiet. "I thought so," Harry grinned. "Dobby!" He turned, on his heel, waiting for the house elf to appear. Heaven forbid if his _house elf_ was now gone as well.

"Master Harrison!" Dobby bowed low, trembling. "What can Dobby get for Master Harrison?"

"Is my brother here?" Harry asked.

"Of course he is, you idiot," a voice drawled superiorly. Harry looked up, grinning as he watched Draco make his way down the steps into the dinning room. His brother had an air of superiority around him; looking astonishingly like their father… it was almost deplorable. His twin's hair had grown to the base of his throat in strict straight strands and his face had narrowed out; loosing every ounce of baby fat. And the silver eyes seemed to become more intense with age.

The burns were just as noticeable as they were the day he got them.

"I've been waiting for you to return for almost half a year." Draco stepped off the last stair, gliding over to Harry with a small smirk on his face. The smirk turned into a sneer as he narrowed in on Dobby. "Go fetch our guests some food, Dobby." The house elf bowed and quickly vanished with Draco's snap. As his brother held up his hand, Harry noticed he was wearing his flashy Malfoy rings with pride.

Interesting… Harry had thought Draco would have hidden away at Hogwarts, among the students, and perhaps turned his nose at the Malfoy name because the rest of the population had. "How are you?" Harry asked softly, seriously. "You look as if you're handling things well enough."

"Of course," Draco responded arrogantly and Harry could sense Keiran's irritation. The vampire _had_ always had hated arrogance… "Someone had to hold the Malfoy name up while his father lost himself in Azkaban and his brother went…" grey eyes flashed behind Harry at the two vampires. "Ah," Draco gave a bow at the waist. "With the assassins, like Zabini had hinted at. It's a pleasure."

Harry was proud of his twin with the show of respect. Draco wasn't stupid; he knew when to bend his neck and when to raise it.

Keiran and Regulus gave a sharp nod back, their eyes assessing Draco. His brother was also smart enough to know not to engage in conversation with them, knowing that he'd make a fool out of himself when they didn't respond.

Dobby returned with a feast that looked polished and took up half the table. He disappeared quickly after when Draco shooed him out of the room. The blonde aristocrat slowly made his way closer to the table, picking up a shiny red apple. "Are you here for good then?" Draco asked, wiping the apple skin on his dark navy robes. "The dark is in desperate need of you, this whole world is in shambles because of the Ministry and Dumbledore's old lackeys. Honestly," Draco sneered. "It's a disgrace how prejudiced it is now. I can hardly walk down Diagon Alley without someone insisting I bare my left forearm."

"I'm here to stay," Harry answered the original question, eyeing the food. When was the last time he ate a feast such as that? Oatmeal…that was it. "Why did you drop out of school?"

"I took up the Malfoy seat in the Ministry." Draco grinned. "And, seeing as I already purposed to my fiancé, I'm attempting to get Pansy Parkinson pregnant." He bit into his apple, looking as dignified as ever.

Harry grimaced deeply. "That's far too much information, Draco."

The blonde shrugged. "With you shacking it up with the Dark Lord, the Malfoy name won't be continued on your end." Harry frowned, narrowing his eyes at Draco. As much as he liked seeing his brother again, he didn't like the tongue. "Sorry," Draco lost some of his arrogance as he was met with a green glare. "I just realized that I need to get going on a few things before I pass away."

Harry remained quiet, leaning his hip on the table. "We'll find a cure, Draco." The blonde kept his mouth shut, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. "I won't lose you like I did mother."

"I'd ask where you've heard about my condition. But it would be a stupid question." Grey eyes danced across his mark. "It's a damn good thing that you're back, Harrison. We need you. This whole world is _weak_ and brainwashed by the Minister. The dark wizards are frightened to even look up from their feet, pathetic." Draco spat, sneering. "The Ministry itself is firing wizards who had a history of dabbling in the dark arts."

"I have a task for you." Harry pushed off from the table. "As much as I liked seeing you again, I came here to ask you to go back to Hogwarts." His brother grimaced, eyes alighting. Harry held up his hand. "You don't need to go back as a student. However you do it, I don't mind. I just want you to recruit any wizard who is willing to side with the Dark Lord and I. When you gather them all, I want you to bring them to the Malfoy manor in downtown London. Can you do that for me?"

The blonde nodded. "I already have a good handful of students who would want to fight for their right to use dark magic."

"Good," Harry glanced at the two assassins against the wall and back at Draco. "I'll be by the manor a few times; you can talk to me then." Green eyes glanced at the food on the table. "Are you sure you don't want anything, Master?" He motioned to the food. The two assassins shook their head, probably hungry for nothing but blood.

"Do you have any idea where the Dark Lord is?" Harry turned to Draco.

"You're asking _me_?" His brother whispered in disbelief. "The last time I saw the Dark Lord, he was sneaking out the window to sit with you after mother's death." Harry gave a loud outtake of air. He was uptight. He _needed_ to see that bastard. The bloody idiot…

"If you have any trouble with gathering the students, you may owl me." He grabbed Draco around the shoulders and gave him a quick hug. "I'm glad to see you got your head on straight, Draco. You've grown up considerably…"

Draco gave him a grin, nodding in gratitude.

He refused to sigh in irritation as he turned to his two companions. It looked as if he would need a snarky bastard to take him to the Dark Lord. Directly.

** -SSC- **

The trees groaned as they swayed in the heavy wind. Harry stood stiffly, his cloak whipping around his body. His focus was on the dark figure making its way down the grounds of Hogwarts and toward the forest. The castle itself had a few windows lit and judging by the time, Harry gathered the students were just waking up. He had gone a whole day without sleeping but he used his magic as his crutch, something he knew was a stupid move on his part, because once he directed his magic away from his body, he'd pass away from exhaustion.

Harry stepped from the shadows after watching the figure look around blindly for a few minutes. "Hello, Professor."

The potions professor whirled around, his wand lit and raised. "Harrison?" Snape inched the wand closer, looking closely at Harry. "Where have you been?"

"That is of little consequence right now, Professor." Harry murmured, feeling the wind pick up. Today was going to be a cloudy day, gloom and eerie. "Remember what I asked you before I left Hogwarts that night? Have you thought about your answer?"

Snape's face was closed, only his dark eyes from the wand light showed his inner thinkings. Harry raised an eyebrow. "And please, spare your dignity and don't attempt to lie. I can see right through lies, Occlumency or no Occlumency."

"I have thought about it," the man admitted. "I'd like to join you."

"Me?" Harry wondered out lout. "You mean the Dark Lord and I."

"No," Snape responded truthfully. "Just you." Seeing Harry's blank face, the man expanded. "I originally joined the Dark Lord because of the thrill it gave me to be in his presence, to be able to freely practice the dark magic. You remind me of him when he was younger…but without the insanity."

"And what changed? Why did you begin to follow Dumbledore and spy on the Dark Lord?"

The potions master shifted just barely, all the while, drawing Harry's attention to it. "I pleaded with him to spare Lily Evan's life. He slaughtered her." His tone was dry and bitter.

"Love," Harry drawled, grinning. He watched as Snape tensed, ready to have Harry pour salt on the wound. The man probably thought him just like the Dark Lord, scoffing at the idea of forming any emotional attachments like that. And it surprised Harry that Severus Snape actually had loved another. Granted, Lily Evans had been married to James Potter, Severus' school enemy.

He reached out toward the man's face, watching with lowered lids as Snape tensed, but remained still. His fingers touched the man's thin and dry lips. "Love is a very strong emotional bond, professor. Many people scoff at the idea of love, not believing such an emotion can be worth while. Others think they should stay away from love because it'll only hurt them in the end. No one knows that love can be the most powerful gift to ever happen to them." Green eyes glazed over as he caressed the man's chin, under his lips.

"I understand where your vengeance had come from," Harry lost his glazed expression and removed his hands from Snape's face, turning back to his cold self. "And I'll try my best to protect you from the Dark Lord's anger at your insolence. Spying on the greatest wizard of our time was stupid; following the crazy old idiot was even stupider. But I have to respect your final decision and hope you will keep your loyalty solid this time."

Snape gave a sharp nod. "I will."

Harry studied the man. "The Dark Lord and I will be discussing many things with you. And I, personally, would like to know what the light has been up to these past few months. But right now, I want you to use that mark on your forearm and bring me to him." Snape looked pale, but the Occlumens didn't allow his fear to _show_ through, Harry could just See it easily. "I will protect you, Severus. Just bring me to him."

Keiran and Regulus stepped out of the shadows, approaching him on either side. Snape was taken aback by their appearance. "Who are they?"

"Too many question, Professor; I'll tell you later, after you bring me to the Dark Lord." Harry grabbed Keiran's arm and Regulus grabbed Severus' arm. Harry motioned for Snape to take his arm, his mood at a critical level of almost _tasting_ his Match. "Don't you trust me, Professor?" Harry whispered softly, smirking.

The man sighed, pulling up his sleeve and pressing his wand to the dark mark. Before he could apparate them, he took Harry's arm and held him close. The ground fell out from under them as they were pulled across the country in less than seconds.

Harry gasped as he hit the ground roughly, his rib feeling like a loose tooth as it wiggled loosely. He buried his face in the ground, hiding his expression of pain. He didn't get very long to dwell on his pain, because he could feel the presence of other wizards closing in. Keiran jerked him to his feet, bringing attention to the shadowy forms closing in on them. Silver masks glittered eerily in the crescent moon and polished wands looked dangerous as they pointed it at the four newcomers.

Harry grimaced. "Put your wands away, you fools." With an air of importance, Harry strolled toward them. Some of them recognized him and dropped to their knees, while others, tensed, wondering what to do in the situation. Keiran and Regulus both stayed close to him, their bodies ready for dodging and attacking.

Gliding up to a group of Death Eaters, Harry unfolded his magic. "I said _put_ your wands _away,_ now." They scrambled to do so, lowering their eyes in submission. Voldemort's numbers had dwindled, Harry could see, but not as much as Sirius made it seem like. Perhaps Tom had recruited after the attack on Azkaban or before then. Just as he was about to grab the collar of the closest Death Eater, the smell of alluring lilacs entered the premises.

Whirling around, he zeroed in on the tall and powerful figure across the ground. The sun was just rising, and the moon was still high, allowing enough light for Harry to see Voldemort. But even if it had been stark darkness, he would be able to tell where his Match was anyway.

The Dark Lord stood on a slight hill, surrounded by his Death Eaters, and looking down at the commotion.

Harry resisted a smug smile, but settled for a smirk as he watched Voldemort all but float gracefully down. Keiran and Regulus both tensed, coiling their bodies even more. Harry assumed that they felt Voldemort's magic. Unlike Harry, the Dark Lord chose to flaunt a good portion of his power at all times to keep his enemies cautious and followers coming.

As sappy as it sounded, Harry felt relieved to see the bastard again. It was pathetic, knowing how much Harry wanted to stay angry at the Dark Lord, but unable to do so when the man made him _want_ him. Frayed black robes dressed the tall and thin frame, the hem tickling the grass beneath his feet. The man's hood was down, revealing his pitch black hair tied to the nape of his neck loosely.

Crimson eyes were as just as bright as Harry remembered. Currently, they were studying Harry up and down with an all but obsessive air, picking at any flaws.

Harry's magic thrummed the closer Voldemort came but he schooled his features. As the man came to a stop in front of him, he reached out a hand toward Harry. But Keiran placed his shoulder in front of Harry, eyeing the Dark Lord in distrust. Crimson eyes shot toward the interruption and Harry's lips thinned as he watched Voldemort and Keiran take each other in, like two male alphas would. It wouldn't surprise Harry if they started circling one another, hissing and growling.

Red eyes narrowed in on Keiran, seeing _something_ in the Master vampire; perhaps Keiran's attachment to Harry or something of another matter. Harry laid his hand on Keiran's arm, drawing both of the men's attention on him. With his stare, Harry mentally told his Master that everything was fine. They were with each other long enough to read each other's expressions and this was no different.

Moving stiffly, Keiran took a step away from Harry, making him vulnerable to Voldemort. Giving one last withering look towards the cloaked assassin, Voldemort reached out again, this time with a more domineering reflex. Harry allowed the spidery fingers to reach out and grab his chin. With a quiet hiss, Voldemort turned his face to the side, studying the Seer mark. _"It was just a dream, then."_ He hissed in Parseltongue

" _No,"_ Harry denied, looking off towards the Death Eaters with his face turned. _"It wasn't. You just woke me up to a few things I had been denying."_

Many of the spectators shivered at their snake conversation, the emotions of fear, lust, and envy were high in the air.

Voldemort turned his face back around, locking eyes with him. The fingers on his face slowly stroked his skin in seductive circles. "I'd like to talk to you privately," Harry threw a look at the watchful Death Eaters. "With our guests…" Voldemort eyed Keiran in distaste and then over Harry's head at Snape.

Harry immediately tensed as he felt the Dark Lord's magic peak in anger. "No," Harry grabbed the Dark Lord's wrists in warning. "He is under my protection."

"And your protection is under me," the Dark Lord hissed at him, surprisingly not removing his wrists from Harry's grasp. "He wore my brand on his arm while actively spying on me. He at least deserves _some_ form of punishment." Harry tugged on the wrists, brining the man's attention back on him.

"We'll argue about this later," Harry eyed the few tents ahead. "We need to discuss more important matters right now." Green and red dueled.

Voldemort's fingers twisted in Harry's grasp, easily turning the tables and clutching at Harry's own thin wrists. He pulled at him, bringing his body closer. Harry refused to breathe as he was flush against the Dark Lord. His heart was pounding quickly and he almost felt ashamed that Keiran and Regulus could hear it so clearly. Voldemort loomed his face close to Harry's blowing a few puffs of breath near his lips. _"If I agree on meeting with your…friends, will you agree to join me, alone for the day?"_

"Yes," Harry replied without hesitation.

His small body was released, although the man kept a good hold on his wrist. "Follow me," the Dark Lord hissed, pleased with himself, as he eyed the two assassins behind Harry. With a tug, Harry was pulled with the Dark Lord. He kept his strides matching the taller man's refusing to look like a lost puppy. "Don't touch the man, not without my permission." Voldemort ordered his Death Eaters, motioning his free hand toward Snape. "You'll stay there until I see fit to talk with you."

The potions master lowered his head, probably sneering underneath the long hair. At least he would be protected until Harry could gather Snape in his possession again.

Voldemort led them to the main tent, stepping aside to let the two assassins in first. They hesitated, just barely, and entered. The Dark Lord's hold on him tightened. Harry couldn't hide his thrill with being with this bastard again. Curling Harry close to him once again, Voldemort buried his face in his neck, inhaling and gently rubbing his nose around the wound to Harry's neck. "I have a gift for you. I had hoped to get your father out of Azkaban, as you have certainly heard by now, but I hope this gift will be a good alternative."

Curiosity spiked Harry as he allowed the man to all but grope him. "A gift?" He murmured, smirking as he inhaled the hair in his face. "The Dark Lord giving a gift? I find that hard to believe."

Voldemort pulled back, crimson eyes flashing in intensity. "You'll just have to wait to see it until your presence satisfies me enough." With that, the arrogant Dark Lord turned his heel, leaving Harry behind.

The boy grimaced at the overconfident man, taking a deep breath and entering the tent he knew would be magical. As he predicted, it was almost like a small house inside. Keiran was perched in the corner, surprisingly not in the shadows. Regulus was balanced on a chair's arm, watching Harry enter.

"I suppose introductions are in line," Harry motioned his hand toward Keiran. "This is my Master, Master, I'm sure you know by now that this is the Dark Lord Voldemort." The two were across the room from one another, but Harry could feel the slight tension.

Keiran stepped forward and slowly unraveled his face scarf. "Master-," Harry started, uncertain.

"It's alright, Harrison." The scarf disappeared, showing Keiran's distinct and coldly handsome features. "I have a feeling the Dark Lord will keep my identity a secret." Keiran kept his gaze on the impassive Dark Lord. "I am Keiran, the Hand of the Assassin Guild. It's nice to meet you." The vampire gave a short and quick bow at the waist.

Harry crossed his arms over his chest while green eyes narrowed lethally at the Dark Lord as he stay stiff and quiet. Crimson eyes danced across at him, taking in his displeased form. Harry reached out with his Seer, sending hot licks of anger toward the man.

Voldemort gave a sneer, averting his gaze back at the vampire. "It is all but a pleasure," he purred. "To meet _my_ _mate's_ instructor." Harry held in a sigh at that. Really. Did the man have to be any more possessive? It was the first time Voldemort had ever called him 'his mate' and wasn't it odd that it was to someone else and not him?

Keiran never batted an eyelash and he didn't miss a beat. "He is a very adaptable student." Keiran turned away from the crimson stare toward Harry. "You should be very proud of him. He has successfully become an assassin."

To make the conversation more sugary, Harry smiled back at the man. "I couldn't have done it without you, Master." And as predicted, disgust came from Voldemort in waves. Perhaps there was a hint of jealousy, but Harry wouldn't dwell on that emotion as much as he wanted to.

Harry gave a smirk at the Dark Lord, nodding his head toward Regulus. The man was all but chuckling in amusement at the exchange. "And this, My Lord, is another friend of mine." Regulus gave a nod toward the Dark Lord, apparently wanting to keep his identity secret.

Voldemort didn't spare Regulus a glance, his eyes still assessing a stoic Keiran. "You don't need to take your scarf off, Regulus Black. It is clearly unnecessary." Regulus choked. Harry smirked. The Dark Lord gave a mocking sigh. "You're guessing how I knew it was you?" He didn't give the Guild member a chance to respond. "Your aura is remarkably like your brothers and your cousins; both Narcissa and Bellatrix."

Regulus slumped in the chair, flashing Harry an exasperated look. So much for the element of surprise.

Clearing his throat, Harry stepped deeper within the tent, throwing a motionless Keiran a glance. The vampire was stiff and his emotions were hard to read. Harry frowned, turning to look at the equally closed off Voldemort.

"As much as I enjoy this tense atmosphere," Harry started, sitting down gently on a chair. His rib was throbbing and his body heat was slowly rising. His breath came out in a short wheeze, drawing the attention of the three men. His lips thinned as he schooled his features. "We came to you for a reason. As you can probably see, the assassins are here." Green eyes looked at the floor, attempting to draw in more power to keep him upright. "When I arrived with the assassins five months ago, Master Keiran and Regulus both told me that the Head of the Assassin Guild was corresponding and allying himself with someone from the light."

He looked up at the Dark Lord. "And you know that assassins remain neutral. They don't drabble in wars, whether it be muggle or wizarding alike. But Akira, the Head, has pledged his services to our enemies in return for more power and recognition." His hand slowly and nonchalantly settled on his waist, pushing at the protruding bone he could feel. His rib was all out of sorts… "Master Keiran found this out early in the process and he is obviously against having his assassins and his Guild members in the public eye."

"This is why I decided to train Harrison myself." Keiran took over for Harry, throwing a concerned look in his direction. "Regulus, when he was a Seer, Saw Harrison's arrival. And knowing that the Head was working against the dark, I figured Harrison would be better protected under me. And thus, we started an alliance." Keiran looked over at Voldemort. "In agreement, my people and I would follow him in this war; in return, we escape afterwards without so much as notice. I want Akira dead."

"Interesting," Voldemort mused. "And you haven't the faintest clue who the Head is working for? Dumbledore is dead."

"The Minister," Harry wheezed. "It has to be Scrimgeour."

"But wouldn't that ruin his reputation?" Voldemort wondered, staring at Harry. "If the assassins want to be in the public eye after the war, wouldn't the wizarding world rebel against the fact that the Minister used killing as means to win?"

"No," Harry scoffed. "The light, despite their lovely name, would probably _talk_ about the fact that he used killing as a bad method, but inside, they'll be smug that they wiped out the dark wizards. They fear too much. They want us to disappear and they'll turn the other cheek if they see their own people killing. After all, we're killing _them_." He took a deep breath, watching as Keiran made his way closer. "Either that, or Scrimgeour will hide the fact that the assassins really _killed_ and instead tell the wizarding world that they helped in some other way. The Minister always shelters and blinds his people."

Voldemort looked at Harry in a new light. Was that really _respect_?

"I'm fine, Keiran," Harry tried to pull away as the vampire made his way over.

"I'm having none of that, Harrison." Keiran kneeled down in front of him, taking his tassel in his fingers and pulling it off around his waist. The cloak dropped from his shoulders first, revealing his glowing pale skin. Voldemort all but tensed, narrowing his eyes at Keiran.

"I have a Healer for that," the Dark Lord hissed dangerously, the temperature in the room cooling dramatically.

Keiran pulled Harry off the seat and cradled him against his chest. "I've seen your _mate's_ naked chest more than you have, My Lord." Harry gave a laugh, his face red from embarrassment. It didn't help matters when Regulus was snickering off to the side. "But I think your Healer would do wonders compared to my patching up." Harry was laid down on the rug, trying to hit Keiran's probing hands away from him.

"I'm _fine_ ," Harry insisted, trying to keep his cloak closed and sit up. "Merlin-," he watched as Voldemort left the tent with a displeased air about him. "This is incredibly awkward." He took control of the situation, rolling away from Keiran and sitting against the couch in a collective manner. He flashed Regulus a look, successfully shutting the man up.

"It wouldn't have been awkward if you would have just healed yourself at your cousin's house like you should have." Keiran scolded, kneeling besides Harry. "The poison is still in your system, I'm guessing you're using your magic to keep yourself conscious." Voldemort came strolling in, a shaking Death Eater after him.

Immediately, the Death Eater made his way over to Harry. He had a balding spot on top his head while the rest of his hair was cut short in a buzz cut. The fingers that groped his briefcase were thin and tapered. "My Lord," he gave a nervous greeting to Harry, glancing a few seconds at Voldemort's hovering form.

"Why don't we go in the other room?" Harry asked, placing his hand on the old man's arm. With his Seer, he calmed the racing heart of the Healer. Harry stood up, bracing himself on the couch for a moment before standing by himself.

Keiran and Regulus both stood with him. "We'll be heading back to the house," Regulus intoned, stepping closer to Harry. He ran his fingers through Harry's hair again, issuing a loud hiss from the boy. "We'll be waiting for you there, cousin."

Keiran gave him a sharp nod, assessing the Healer to see if the man passed his silent judging. "How will you get there when you can't apparate? Would you like me to bring you?" Harry asked, watching them make their way out the tent.

His Master fit his scarf across his face again. "We have our own means of transportation," Keiran's eye sparkled mysteriously. "I want you to _rest_." Here he looked particularly at Voldemort as he said this. The Dark Lord smirked back.

Harry sighed at the childish behavior. "I'll try in get in touch with you tomorrow then…" The two assassins waved him off and all but vanished in the shadows.

It was just Voldemort and him now… and he supposed the Healer. "We have much to discuss," Voldemort drawled, strolling over and sitting on the arm chair.

"We do," Harry looked at the uncomfortable Healer and decided to speed things up. "I was poisoned; something I'm sure a Bezoar would cure." He took off his cloak, dropping it to the ground. He stood straight, watching as the Healer quickly dug through his bag. "I have a sword wound on my forearm and a dagger brush against my throat and chest…" his eyes dropped downward, grimacing. "And a rib…problem…I think it may be broken or sprained."

A kidney shaped stone was thrust at him and Harry took it, placing it in his mouth. He grimaced at the tough substance but chomped on it. "And just where did you get these injuries?" Voldemort inquired, watching him and the Healer closely.

"My last task," Harry swallowed, refusing to shiver. "I was given the challenge of dueling Akira's apprentice to the death." Harry grinned. "He tried to off me with a poisoned dagger." Voldemort didn't look impressed.

"And are you glad you got away?" Voldemort wondered darkly. "Was becoming an assassin worth everything?"

Harry raised his chin. "It was," he studied the lounging Dark Lord. "Not only have I learned a lot of things, both in fighting and mentally, but I gained ourselves much needed allies." They lapsed into silence, not willing to indulge too much with the Healer here.

A wand probed his rib, causing Harry to give a loud gasp in pain. He opened his mouth, ready to vomit, but considering he hadn't eaten for a while, nothing came out. "It's fractured," the Healer stuttered, feeling the displeased air from the Dark Lord.

"You fool," Voldemort hissed. "He warned you beforehand. Do you not _listen_ to your betters?"

" _It's alright, Tom,"_ Harry spoke in Parseltongue. _"He's just confirming…"_ The Dark Lord didn't want to hear it as he continued to narrow his eyes at the Healer. Harry attempted to give the shaking doctor more calming waves.

"Skele-Gro," the Healer poured a small amount into a glass goblet, handing it to Harry. The boy grimaced, knowing that he was in for a real treat. He swallowed it quickly, closing his eyes against the burn in his throat.

"You've thrown down brandy before, sweet," Voldemort all but purred. "The burn shouldn't be too bad." Harry gave the man a look as the Healer continued on cleaning his wounds on his forearm, chest, and neck- patching them up with his wand. Harry stayed motionless as the man then wrapped gauze and wrap around his torso to apply pressure on his healing rib.

"Thank you," Harry gave the man a small smile as the Healer packed up. The man gave a shaky bow and hurriedly left the tent.

The two wizards eyed each other. "You should sleep," Voldemort stood up, crimson eyes dark.

"We have too much to talk about," Harry argued back. "I'm more than fine to stay up."

"You lie again," the man sneered. "I can see your magic, underneath that sparkly mess, you're exhausted. I will not have you be _weak_ on my battlefield."

Harry clenched his jaw. The man himself was just as tired as Harry was. He could see it. "Your battlefield?" Harry wondered, cocking his head to the side. "Not much of a battlefield, is it?" He was treading on dangerous grounds, but that's what he _did_ with Tom Riddle. "From what I've heard the light is crushing you and your _army_ with their fist."

The Dark Lord's expression dropped and the magic around Harry crackled. "You dare criticize me? When you _ran away_ from your problems? How can you pass judgment when you weren't here, but hiding away?"

Rearing his head to the side, Harry stood his ground. "I wasn't _hiding_ , but I will admit that I didn't do this for myself. I did it to show everyone I could conquer what they thought I couldn't. And you know what? The taste of victory isn't so strong now that I succeeded. Not when I realized you needed me so much here-,"

"Don't flatter yourself," Voldemort sneered. "I have held myself and my army together for as long as you were away. Only when I underestimated the light as I attacked Azkaban was where my problem came in hand."

"You always have a habit of underestimating people, Tom." Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "And that will be your downfall someday."

Voldemort remained silent, his magic still licking and reaching out to Harry in a malicious eagerness. The magic didn't harm him, only warned him of his boundaries. "You're right," Voldemort took a calming breath, trying to calm his raging anger. "I do underestimate many people, you especially. If you really want to hear it, Harrison, I need you by my side."

Green eyes widened a fraction. He wouldn't drop his jaw like he wanted to, simply because he had to play this game as well as Voldemort did. And acting like a child would be an insult to Voldemort's rather personal confession. "We need each other to succeed," Harry started, dropping his arms from his chest and stepping closer to the man. "You are a good strategist, a far better leader than I could ever be… but I'm a better politician. I'm the 'ideal' leader that people want. You…" he paused, grasping for the word. "Well, you're a cruel bastard."

The Dark Lord smirked.

"And I doubt you will ever change that." Harry continued. "You don't let weakness or betrayal slide easily and you expect your followers to give it their all. There is nothing wrong with that. Your enemies are afraid of you… My purpose, on the other hand, would be to…"

"Lick my follower's wounds?" Voldemort drawled in disgust.

Green eyes flashed. "I would seduce others to our side."

The man tensed. "And just how would you _seduce?_ "

"As much as I like the idea of fucking every wizard who joins our side," Harry frowned at the man in disgust. "That isn't what I mean and you are smart enough to know that. You're far too possessive for your own good." The man brushed off the comment.

Voldemort prowled closer to Harry, reaching out to grasp his elbows. "No," Voldemort disagreed. "You are my secret weapon. A sweet face," fingers reached up to brush aside his hair. "But a cruel and malicious streak behind that prettiness." The man leaned down breathing in Harry's ear. "You _are_ awfully arousing when you are angry."

Harry grinned, feeling his throat contrast with the proximity of the Dark Lord. His magic was purring, reaching out to Tom and caressing the man. Voldemort's magic lovingly caressed his back, entwining theirs together. Their magic was happy to be together again. And when they were together, they were a force to be reckoned with.

Harry's eyelids dropped subconsciously. He was tired. No, he was exhausted. Not even the idea of having sex with his Match could wake him up. "Come sleep with me," his hand wandered down the Dark Lord's arm and entwined his fingers with the cold and long appendages. He pulled at him, leading him toward the bedroom he could see across the hall. "I'm exhausted, you're exhausted. Let's spend the day sleeping. Just this once."

Voldemort face contorted. "Sleeping?" He asked in abhorrence. "The last thing I want to do in a bed with you is sleep." Red eyes glanced down at Harry's bandaged waist. With the hand Harry held, he yanked the smaller wizard forward against his chest. "But I suppose you need to rest." His hand danced across the wrap, caressing the material.

"Will you rest with me?" Harry asked slyly, looking up at the man. He lazily reached up a hand and lowered the man's neck. Placing his lips near Voldemort's, he breathed. "Perhaps I can make up the lost time afterward?" He let Voldemort go and made his way to the bedroom.

He held in a smirk as the man followed.


	30. Breathe Into Me

** Chapter Thirty: Breathe Into Me **

Harry leaned on his hand as he stared at the man next to him. He had just gotten up from a much needed sleep and he had been surprised to note that the warm body next to him was still present. Bloody Dark Lord was actually _sleeping_. Not faking it, nor was he allowing his magic to dance across the room, alerting him when Harry was awake. He was peacefully sleeping. The man didn't look half as powerful as he did sleeping when he was awake. Seeing Voldemort sleeping was a step in a right direction. Hell, he had expected Voldemort to convert to his old self, taking their _relationship_ a few steps backwards while Harry was away.

Harry was more than pleased at the end result. Perhaps his absence did Voldemort some good.

They still had many things to discuss, to talk about, to plan…but at the moment, Harry could care a less. He wanted something that he had avoided for so long. He wanted what Voldemort had been nagging him with ever since he revealed to Harry that they were Matches.

Quietly, he got up from the bed, his bare feet hitting the floor without a sound. He made his way into the bathroom and cast a silencing charm around it. Waking up Voldemort now would cause the man to have the upper hand in their act of dominance. Harry wanted to be the one starting their…bonding on his own terms.

His rib was feeling much better. Judging from the way the shadows in the room grew darker; Harry gathered that it was night once again. He pealed off the wrap around his waist, seeing the absence of the dark bruising. It was still slightly sore, but overall, healed.

Turning on the shower, he stepped under the spray, closing his eyes in bliss. The showers at the assassin castle were always cold and quick, having one now, was pure ecstasy. Harry turned the water hotter, enjoying as his skin turned a brilliant pink with the temperature. He lathered up with Voldemort's spicy soap, paying special attention to rub away the dried blood around his scars.

After tearing himself away from the shower, he stood nude in front of the Dark Lord's closet. He grinned as he ran his fingers through the dark cloaks. Nothing much to wear… ah… a wicked smirk crossed his features as he grabbed a silk shirt from the back. It buttoned up in the front and fell a few inches above his knees. He turned to the mirror, loving how the black silk shirt contrasted beautifully against his pale skin. What can he say? Malfoys and Blacks were vain, he just inherited both of their genes.

There was a crest on the chest, a crest that looked oddly like a Slytherin's coat of arms. Interesting. Voldemort probably wore this under his robes.

Taking a deep breath, he walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom where Voldemort still slept, absolutely clueless. A malicious smirk crossed Harry's lips as he snuck closer to the man. His small body climbed up on the bed and toward the slumbering form. Muscles clenching, he straddled the Dark Lord's body, putting one leg on either side, making sure not to place his weight on the body yet.

He leaned forward, gently licking the exposed throat.

And that's when crimson eyes snapped open.

Harry allowed his weight to sit on Voldemort's lap, leaning back to watch as the man gathered his senses.

Voldemort's smirked, his hand immediately landing on Harry's exposed thigh. The arousal in the room was clear. "I suppose this is where you make it up to me for sleeping with you?" Voldemort murmured huskily, his fingers rubbing circles on the milky white thigh.

"No," Harry shifted his groin on top of Voldemort, causing the Dark Lord to give a throaty groan. "This is where I make sure my presence satisfies you enough." He threw the man's words back at him. "I want that gift you promised." The red eyed man chuckled, pleased.

Using his free hand, he plucked a few buttons loose from Harry's shirt, revealing his bare chest and shoulders. "My, what a sharp tongue," Voldemort murmured, his hand dancing down Harry's side and settling at his other thigh. His fingers tightened, grinding Harry's small body down and thrusting his own pelvic upward. Their groins brushed together and the man repeated the action a couple of more times, becoming harsher and faster each thrust.

** \- Start Lemon- **

Harry gave a groan, reaching out his own hands and curling them around Voldemort's collar. "You're wearing far too many clothes." And his magic vanished the man's clothing. The only thing separating their naked groins was the bed sheet.

"Nothing on underneath, love?" Voldemort whispered out, clutching at Harry's hips harder. "You planned this all along, you little minx." He thrust upward in a wild heat.

Leaning forward, leaving his hips above Voldemort, he grasped the man's face in his hands and planted a kiss on those tantalizing lips. His belly was on fire with arousal and desire and Harry did nothing to hide his moan that passed his mouth and into Voldemort's. The Dark Lord tensed beneath him and then lunged forward, knocking Harry off his lap and onto the bed, beneath him.

"How would you like it?" Voldemort hissed in his ear, his tongue coming out to play.

Harry writhed and gave a breathless moan as the Dark Lord's erection found his through the shirt. The Dark Lord reached out to tear the rest of the shirt off him, dipping down low to lick at the exposed stomach. Breathing heavily, Harry's hands shot down to grab hold of the man's cock. He stroked it, feeling the veins pulsating beneath the pads of his fingers. Voldemort grunted. "I think the position we were in was just fine." Harry breathed; rolling them around so Harry was on top again.

His hand stroked the man's erection with a frenzy, yanking and pulling as hard as he could without actually hurting the man… too much. Green eyes dilated in pleasure as he watched Voldemort shudder himself. Such enjoyment… Harry loved making the man feel this way. "Stop…" Voldemort hissed, baring his teeth. "Mount me, _damnit_."

"Ah," Harry pouted. "Is the Dark Lord going to come if I keep doing this?" Harry mocked, grinning as he leaned down, engulfing the man's cock with his mouth. It was far too large to cover the whole erection with his mouth, but he tried his best.

He realized his mistake as soon as his lips covered the pulsating head.

Voldemort gave a victorious laugh as his hands covered Harry's head, pulling at the hair and pushing Harry's head closer on his cock. "Fool, thought you were in control… _suck_ me." And the Dark Lord humped his mouth, pushing his cock further down the small throat. " _Yess…"_ he hissed in pleasure.

Harry gagged, using his fingernails and pressing them into Tom's hips. He scraped them down, piercing the skin. It didn't seem to affect the Dark Lord as he continued to thrust himself inside Harry's mouth. Harry felt the man's arousal peak and knew-,

He choked, attempting to swallow Tom's seed. The man let his head go, allowing some mercy as Harry attempted to clear his airways. Through his struggle, Harry was pushed down on his back and the Dark Lord loomed before him, staring at him obsessively and full of desire. "You look absolutely beautiful like that," he murmured softly, reaching out a finger to wipe away the white liquid on Harry's chin. "Completely _owned_." Tom poked and Harry reacted.

Harry hissed, getting himself back under control and lunging forward. The man wouldn't have control…

Tom easily caught the small body flying in his direction, forcing Harry to sit on his lap. The two were both sitting up with Harry straddling Tom's already growing erection again. "And here I thought you were older than seventy," Harry breathed, rubbing his arse against the erection. He closed his eyes as he felt Voldemort gently prod his fingers inside Harry's arse, stretching him.

"When I have someone as tempting as you here, love, I spring back, doubtless of my age."

"Bullocks," Harry gave a breathless whisper. "You probably took a damned potion…" Voldemort chuckled. Harry screwed his face up as he felt a second finger join the first one. "Merlin."

"You're alright." Voldemort comforted, stretching him. The older man leaned forward, sucking at Harry's neck to try to distract him. _"Relax, my sweet serpent."_ The Parseltongue against his neck sent shivers down Harry's body. Teeth nipped and pulled at his skin, drawing the much loved blood between them. Harry moaned, feeling the fingers leave him and something much bigger take its place.

"Fuck, Tom," Harry tensed, rearing away from the man's warm heat. The arms around him tightened, before letting him go.

"If you're not ready, then leave." Crimson eyes challenged him. "But you certainly won't be getting anything from me." Harry tightened his jaw, knowing the Dark Lord was challenging him. He didn't think he could do it.

Harry moved closer to Tom, swinging an arm around the man's neck and quickly grabbing the man's erection with his other hand and sitting down on it rather roughly. Tom hissed in pleasure, while Harry hissed in undeniable pain. He stayed still, pulling at Tom's neck, making the Dark Lord almost bow his head. His teeth were imbedded into the man's collar bone, using the means of pain to try to get back at the Dark Lord.

Hands settled themselves on his hips while Harry embraced Tom, keeping both his leverage and balance. Their position was a clear sign of neutral ground. By both sitting up, neither of them were on the higher ground. Harry knew, without a doubt, they couldn't use this position all the time… he would have to be pounded in the mattress at times- but Tom would have to deal with Harry riding him on other occasions.

Voldemort's finger nails pierced Harry's hips, as the man lifted the small body up, off his cock and then back down. Groaning, Harry's saliva intermixed with the blood on Tom's collar bone, dripping down the front of his chest. "Merlin, you're small…" Tom groaned out as he easily lifted Harry off his cock and slamming him back on. "Very easy to maneuver you wherever I want…"

" _Shut up and fuck me,"_ Harry hissed, his arm pulling the man downward, encasing him with a searing kiss. Their tongues battled for dominance and Harry bit down roughly on the tongue in his mouth, easily gaining the upper hand in the kiss. Tom got his revenge as he thrust rather painfully inside Harry.

Breath and blood intermixed between them and eventually, Harry sucked his pansy side up and leaned a bit away from Tom. His hands settled themselves on the man's shoulders and gave a snarky grin. Crimson eyes stared at him through hooded lids and then widened as Harry rode him, and then he narrowed them again. Harry refused to laugh, even if he wanted to. He was far too aroused to do anything but moan.

The Dark Lord would see him riding him as an act of dominance, and that wouldn't fly with Tom, no matter how much it pleased him. With his hands still on Harry's narrow hips, he met Harry halfway with his own thrust.

They worked each other into a frenzy and Harry could feel the high ecstasy coming off from the Dark Lord. It wouldn't be too long now…. Harry gave a moan, tightening his hands on the man's shoulders. He could hear Tom breathing heavily, giving a hiss between quiet moans. "Harrison…" he whispered huskily. Harry leaned closer again, clutching Tom in an embrace. Their chests rubbed pleasantly against one another and Harry was surprised to feel Voldemort remove his hands from Harry's hips and wrap them around the small body.

Harry shuddered, burying his face in the crook of the man's neck, coming. Voldemort clutched him closer, coming soon after with a hiss of incoherent curses.

** -End Lemon- **

The two stayed like that for a long while, slowing down their racing pulses. "Bloody hell," Harry moaned and allowed Tom to tip them backwards on the bed. The Dark Lord was still buried inside him, a pleasant weight on top of him.

Harry closed his eyes, content. "Look at what you have been missing all those times you've pulled away…" Voldemort whispered in his ear, using his tongue to trace the outer shell. Harry was far too tired to retort with his own wit and chose to enjoy the Dark Lord's small caress.

Lips traced his neck and he thought he actually felt a slight _nuzzle_ from the man. "What is this?" Harry grinned as he felt the man's fingers run through his hair. "Is the Dark Lord actually participating in after-sex loving?" Harry cooed.

"Shut the hell up," Voldemort gave the boy under him a sharp bite to the jaw.

"No need to be embarrassed," Harry groaned, running his own fingers through the long hair of his lover. "I find it oddly endearing." And calming…peaceful. For once, Harry allowed himself to relax, not worrying about anything at all.

"This isn't after-sex loving, you little minx." Voldemort lied as his kisses grew fiercer. "This is a second foreplay." The warm chest got off him but he stayed inside Harry, looking down at him through loose strands of hair in his face. Those crimson eyes were much brighter, a lot more relaxed and alive than Harry had ever seen them.

"Another round?" Harry inquired with a silly grin. The Dark Lord didn't respond. He only gave a wicked smirk as he gathered Harry's thin wrists in his hand and captured them above the smaller man's head.

It looked like Harry's turn to be in total submission would be sooner than he thought as he was pounded into the mattress with an eager Dark Lord above him.

** -SSC- **

"Bloody sore," Harry complained to the Dark Lord the next morning. "It's entirely your fault."

The man smirked and Harry could feel the pleased emotions coming from him. "It is, isn't it?"

Green eyes shot the man a glare. "Next time, I'm going to ride you until you pass out from the ecstasy." He paused. "I find it ironic how you grew tired after I told you it was _my_ turn to ride you." What was so horrible about Harry riding the man? Voldemort's bloody _dick_ would still be the one penetrating; Harry would just be the one orchestrating the pace.

They passed by a group of Death Eaters who were all glancing their way. "You can't blame a man of being tired when he was the one doing all the work." Harry shot the man an icy glare, watching as Tom kept his smirk firmly in place.

Before they went inside the tent Voldemort was bringing them toward, Harry reached out and grabbed the man's collar, bringing his face down level with his own. _"You just wait, Tom…_ " He mentally opened his mind shields to Voldemort, allowing the man to see what he intended to do the next time they were alone. The man would be at his complete mercy.

Crimson eyes dilated in pleasure. "I'd like to see you try, love." Voldemort purred, brushing past him and shrugging off Harry's glare. "Come now, don't you want to see your gift?" Harry lost his glare. He deserved a bloody gift after he was forced into the mattress last night. He was curious as to what the Dark Lord wanted to give him and he followed him inside the tent. Before he could see anything, Voldemort turned his back on the inside of the tent and blocked Harry's entrance.

"Here," a satin pouch was taken from his pocket and handed over to Harry. "I had it ready the day you left for the assassins."

Harry stared at the pouch, taking it hesitantly. Flashing the man a look, he opened the small satin bag and frowned. His fingers dipped inside and pulled out a piece of… "Skin?" Harry grimaced, peering closer. His mouth opened and he gave a pleasant chuckle. "Longbottom's famous scar…" The skin was preserved and it felt slightly warm in his grasp. He'd always wondered what the Dark Lord had done with the boy. Hell, he still wondered.

"It was a peace offering," Voldemort looked displeased and disgusted with himself. Harry knew it must be hard for the man to be _nice_ and sweet. "After I read your letter I began to realize where you were coming from." He stopped himself from spilling out more than he wanted to and Harry wouldn't blame him. "Which is why I offer you a part of soul in apology," he moved out of the way, revealing a slumped form to Harry.

Green eyes stared at Longbottom's devastated form. The Gryffindor lost a decent amount of weight and there was no spark left in those eyes of his. He was tied to a pole in the middle of the non-magical tent, covered in grim and his own shit.

Harry could only stare dumbly at Longbottom, realizing that… this was a large symbolic gesture from the Dark Lord. It was a sacrifice on the Dark Lord's behalf, presenting Harry both his enemy and his Horcrux. It was a gesture of apology and a truce.

A bone white wand was placed in his hand. Harry numbly looked at Voldemort's wand in his grasp. "You are my Match, my mate… you and I are alike in many ways." The Dark Lord took a deep breath, sneering lightly at himself. "I confess that I need you by my side and for that to happen, for us to succeed in this war, in our relationship, I need your trust again. I betrayed you once and I realize the flaw in my ways. I'd like to start clean, Harrison, have a new slate. We will have problems, hell, I want to fight with you… it's oddly arousing to see you frustrated. But I realize I had hurt you by betraying your trust. That is one thing I will vow to never do again."

It was spoken stiffly and Harry knew it was painful for the man to say things like that, but it all came down to the fact that… he _was_ saying it. No matter how stiff he was, or disgusted with himself for talking like this, he wouldn't have said it if he didn't mean it.

He was honestly taken aback on the man's words. He would have never thought Voldemort would go to such lengths in all about apologizing. "Merlin, Tom…" Harry murmured.

"Just kill the damned kid, Harrison and accept my gift."

Harry grinned, reaching over and curling his fingers around Voldemort's robes. He pulled the man down for a kiss. "Thank you." He wouldn't make a big deal out of Tom's gesture nor his words, because the man was already uncomfortable.

He turned and approached Longbottom. "You filth," Neville spat, eyes narrowing. "I _trusted_ you." His eyes showed his disgust at the antics between the Dark Lord and Harrison.

Harry tisked, crouching down next to the shivering boy. He grimaced at the smell surrounding the boy. "Poor Neville," Harry whispered, reaching out and touching the boy on the face. He flinched back from the touch, snarling like an animal. "What's the matter?" Harry pouted. "You craved my touch before…"

"You'll pay; you'll get your due." Neville whimpered. Harry felt Voldemort's soul within Neville peak at his touch again. "They'll kill you…"

"A pity you will be dead before you can see the end result." Harry placed the wand at Neville's conjunction between his jaw and neck. Longbottom stiffened and then slowly turned his face back around toward Harry, showing his crimson eyes. Harry paused. "Are you going to kill me, Harrison?"

Harry narrowed his eyes on the Horcrux. "Have you ever seen this happen before?" Harry asked Voldemort. The Dark Lord stepped forward, peering closer at Longbottom. His lips twitched upwards as he surveyed his soul.

"No," Longbottom turned his attention on the Dark Lord. "It would seem as if he's attracted to you and dominant around your presence."

Harry tisked. "I can't kill him. Is there a way to convert the piece of Horcrux back inside you?" Two sets of red eyes turned to him. He shivered as he thought of having two Voldemort's running around. What if that had happened? It wouldn't be very long, after all, Voldemort was a dominant figure, he wouldn't be able to stand having another one of himself around. He supposed the older one would win… and then he wondered why he was even thinking of such a thing.

"I can," Voldemort acknowledged. "I didn't go through with it because I wanted you to choose Longbottom's fate, with my soul still intact." The Riddle inside Longbottom smiled sickly at Harry.

"Untie me, love, perhaps you and I…"

"Silence," Voldemort hissed, sneering at his soul. "Is this what you choose? I'd rather get out of both their presence." Harry resisted a grin at the man's behavior.

"I want him _inside_ you. I-,"

"I can be inside _you_." Longbottom grinned. Harry raised his wand, ready to stun the body. That was, until Riddle became submissive to Longbottom once again. The Gryffindor looked positively frightened, unable to form any coherent words.

" _I want him inside you, not split, but molded back with you. That's what I want to do with your soul. Longbottom on the other hand… I wouldn't mind you kill him."_ Harry hissed in Parseltongue, knowing full well that Neville could understand what he was saying anyway. Another reason to kill the whelp. No one but Harrison and Voldemort should be able to speak the language of snakes.

"If that is your wish, Harrison." The Dark Lord stood up. "I will complete the process as soon as we have the time. It's a long and drawn out process, I prefer to get a few things out of the way before we attempt the ritual." Harry nodded in agreement, standing up with the man.

"We should make a visit to the werewolves, but first we need to speak to Snape. Perhaps he'll have some insight who the figurehead for the light is." Harry paused, looking over his shoulder at an unconscious Longbottom. He surveyed the boy, trying to feel a little spark of pity…anything… he couldn't find any. "Do you reckon Snape left the spot we told him to stay at yesterday?"

"He'd better still have his nose to the ground."

"That was over twenty four hours ago, My Lord," Harry raised his chin and threw back his shoulders as they made their way across the grounds toward the groups of Death Eaters lulling around. His face was stoic, not one hint of any feeling or emotions coming through. He and Voldemort were back to being cold partners.

Voldemort coldly dismissed the staring Death Eaters. "Where is Severus?" He asked the groups near the fire. Their eyes shot between Harry and Voldemort, only to direct their stare across the ground. Harry turned to see the potions master sitting diligently on a tree stump, looking as if he wasn't waiting for an angry Dark Lord to approach him. Black eyes slowly glanced up through the fall of his hair, watching the two approach.

"Severus," Voldemort hissed softly. His wand was out, pointing it at the man. The potions master stood up, not falling to his knees like Harry would have thought he'd do.

"My Lord," he bowed his head toward Harry as he said this. The smaller shifted, feeling a sharp anger coming from the Dark Lord. Green eyes watched emotionlessly as Voldemort cast a _Crucio_ on the falling form of Severus Snape.

The man writhed on the floor, twisting in on himself and rolling on the ground in pain. His gasps were loud and sharp, drawing attention from the distant Death Eaters. Once Harry spotted saliva making its way down the man's lips, he straightened up. _"That's enough, Tom."_ Red eyes glanced at him, sneering, and keeping the curse on. _"I said that's_ enough. _He's_ my _follower now."_

Snape gave a scream. _"Yours? We are in on this together… he betrayed me. He will not get away with this."_

Harry clenched his jaw. _"Take it off him."_ He ordered again. The man was being impossible again. Gone was Tom Riddle and back again was Lord Voldemort. _"He needs to stay conscious in order to answer our questions. And he's under my protection."_ Voldemort didn't seem as if he'd be lifting the curse anytime soon.

Harry stepped closer, raising his hand; he used his magic to divert the _Crucio_ away from Severus. Voldemort hissed in displeasure. Ignoring the man, Harry stood above a panting Severus, watching as the man gathered his senses. Subconsciously, he gave off calming waves and took away the pain. He couldn't take away the ache, but he figured Snape deserved as much for being a spy for the Dark Lord.

"That will be your punishment, Snape." Harry spoke softly, unemotionally. "For betraying the Dark Lord. The only reason you're not dead is because you vowed your loyalty to me. Let's hope you don't betray that _trust_ either."

Voldemort came to a stop directly behind him, sneering down at the potions professor. "Who is the figurehead for the light?" The Dark Lord inquired. "Is it Rufus Scrimgeour?"

"One of them," Severus tried to get himself together and sit on his knees before the two wizards.

Harry frowned, feeling something tighten in his chest. "And who is the other?"

Black eyes looked up at Harry, raising his eyebrows. "Albus Dumbledore."


	31. It Ends Here Tonight

** Chapter Thirty One: It Ends Here Tonight **

"Excuse me?" Harry asked dangerously, acid green eyes narrowing in on the kneeling form. "What did you just say?" The Death Eaters around them shifted uncomfortably when they felt Harry's magic leak out and fill the air with ominous threat. Voldemort stepped next to him, even with his shoulder as he gazed down at the form of Snape.

"Albus Dumbledore," Severus replied bitterly. "He's not alive."

Harry sneered. "Then how, pray tell is he a _figurehead_ for the light?" The smaller wizard looked up at the dull sky, contemplating, and then back down at Snape. "Please tell me he's not a damned ghost." The thought of having Albus Dumbledore floating around as a ghost was simply… _revolting._

"No," Snape denied shortly.

Voldemort hissed softly, his wand lifting again toward the fallen wizard. "If you follow Harrison, you will address him with respect." Harry felt a brief smugness make its way through his chest at his lover's order.

The potions master looked to the ground, his shoulders hunching. "No, Lord Malfoy, he is not a ghost, but a portrait."

Voldemort and Harry stayed silent, both of them flabbergasted. "You're kidding me," Harry grimaced. "The Minister is working with a bloody portrait?" Voldemort hissed in laughter. It was easily mistaken for just hissing, but Harry could See the amusement coming off of the Dark Lord. _"Nothing is funny about this…"_ Harry hissed at the man, frowning. _"I kill him and he comes back, as a bloody portrait no less... bloody hell."_

" _Oh, it_ is _amusing, little one."_

Harry threw the man a look and then back down at Snape. "It is… a mystery on how many portraits the man has." Severus started again. "I assume there is one in the Order's headquarters as well as one in the Minister's office. As well as one in Hogwarts. He was his own witness against his murder." Snape buried his fingers in the ground. "The Ministry also has allies we, the Order, don't know about. A couple of them. I know the giants are on the light side and the dementors take their position defending Azkaban seriously. But they are not on any side."

"For now," Harry remarked stiffly. "We'll see how they hold up against a Seer." After all, dementors _were_ magical creatures as well. He had no idea how they would react around him. He could feel Voldemort's curiosity as well. Perhaps a trip to Azkaban was in the works…

As far as Snape's confession, Harry knew the 'mysterious' allies were the assassins. But Snape said there were a _couple_ of them, and for the life of him, he couldn't come up with anyone else who'd side with the light.

"The Unspeakables are now active in the war, along with the Aurors. Both groups have been trained hard for this war, My Lord. The Order is gaining courage now that Dumbledore is dead but still with them and offering his guidance."

" _More like manipulations…"_ Harry hissed under his breath. "Is there anything else?" Harry pursed his lips, frowning. "What about the werewolves? Where did the Ministry bring them?"

"Azkaban," Snape murmured hoarsely.

Harry tensed, turning to gaze up at the tall man next to him. _"What do you think, My Lord? Should we plan a break out for Azkaban again?"_ Crimson eyes turned away from Severus and onto him. _"We'll have Greyback with us this time around, along with the assassins. I know a few other wizards who would join us as well. And as soon we break out your…broken followers along with the werewolves who were thrown in there by the Ministry, we'll have all but a new army."_

The Dark Lord looked expressionless. _"Perhaps we may gain the dementors with your abilities as well."_ Harry turned away from the crimson stare, feeling a grin threatening his face at the Dark Lord's insistence that _he_ could gain more allies.

"That's if for now," Harry murmured down toward Snape. "You're a smart man-,"

" _Are you sure about that?"_ Voldemort hissed, sneering.

"I trust you'll act accordingly, Professor Snape. When I need you again, Lord Voldemort will call you in means of your dark mark until we find another way." Harry ignored Voldemort's mocking stare. "Thank you, Severus, for choosing the correct side. You may go back to your school." Snape hesitated before standing up. Harry could see it in his eyes that he was grateful of Harry for sparring his life, but far too proud to show it.

Snape gave a bow at the waist. "Yes, My Lord Malfoy." Black eyes glanced at the Dark Lord and dipped his head. Voldemort stood stiffly, watching as the potions master turned his heel and slowly walking away until he disapparated. Harry and Voldemort turned to one another, studying each other.

"Greyback?"

Green eyes darkened and he turned his back on the Dark Lord. "Yes…" he hissed, baring his teeth. "Let's go see Greyback."

** -SSC- **

"We should have brought Master Keiran with. At least to give Greyback a warning he'd be working with vampires." Harry started, dropping down on the ground and entering the den. Behind him Voldemort murmured something. "What was that?" Harry questioned, looking over his shoulder.

Red eyes pierced his. "Nothing, my sweet."

"Hmm," Harry gave the man a look, entering deeper within the den. The man behind him silently stewed. Harry withheld an annoyed sigh. Instead, he put on his emotionless mask as a werewolf came crouching toward them in an animalistic air. "Where is Greyback?" Harry hissed. The werewolf landed on his haunches, inhaling Harry with a pleased air.

Voldemort stepped beside him, drawing attention from the werewolf. The beast gave a growl. "He will not see _him_. Only you, Seer."

" _Just what did you do to the werewolves?"_ Harry hissed, watching as another werewolf approached. The Dark Lord remained silent. Honestly… that man. Perhaps this wasn't the werewolves' fault, but the Dark Lord's temper and lack of respect for anyone but himself. "He's with me," Harry murmured, stepping closer to the werewolves. The two werewolves never backed away, they all but leaned forward, pupils dilated in lust and hunger at his proximity.

"What is this?" The two werewolves' hunched their shoulders and side lunged away from Harry. Greyback made his presence known, walking towards the entrance of the cave with his nude body. Harry ran his eyes down the length. Greyback certainly had nothing to hide, despite his gnarled hair and dirty skin. "My Adonis, my Moon Childe…" Greyback's amber eyes leered at Harry. "You've come back."

"I have," Harry agreed, watching in amusement as Voldemort placed his shoulder in front of Harry's body. The man was _emitting_ displeasure and disgust. "And I came back to a disordered dark army. And here I thought we _agreed_ that you'd follow the Dark Lord until I came back." He pushed past Voldemort, peering up at the alpha.

Fenrir reared his head and leered down at Harry. "I will not follow such _filth_ ,"

Voldemort twirled his wand out of his pocket in less than seconds, jabbing it in Greyback's throat. "You filthy mutt," Voldemort hissed. Greyback fell to the ground, growling in pain as Voldemort sent him a curse.

Around the two wizards, werewolves crept closer from out of the shadows. They surrounded them, eyeing Voldemort with abhorrence. This wouldn't do.

Harry stepped forward. "You gave me your word you would follow the Dark Lord." Voldemort dropped the curse and Fenrir's muscles tensed as he jumped up into a crouch, doubtless of the pain he had just gone through.

"Why? Simply because he treated both my pack and I like dirt." Harry pursed his lips, his annoyance for Voldemort growing. The man seriously needed counseling. "You promised, sweet, that we would be treated on equal grounds. That was definitely not the case."

Green eyes flashed toward an innocent looking Voldemort. "I did say he would treat you on equal grounds, yes." Crimson eyes drilled into his own, silently telling Harry that the man would do _no_ such thing. Harry grimaced. "But I'm afraid he will not listen to my plea, Greyback. It is I who will treat you with equality. And it won't matter what he thinks, because you will be listening to my orders anyway."

Greyback glowered at the Dark Lord as he kept bouncing on the balls of his feet in his crouch. "Then I would like to ask for another…gift for our alliance with you, Harrison Malfoy. Considering our deal about you visiting my pack each full moon was disrupted, you owe me."

Voldemort all but growled at the werewolf. He was worse than a damned vampire facing a werewolf. Harry would be having a small _talk_ with the man after this. "What would you like?" Harry murmured toward Greyback, his eyes shifting over the alpha's shoulder toward his pack.

"After the war, I want a treaty with the wizards." Fenrir growled. "They will treat us with respect and we'll leave them alone. Allow us to have a forest to ourselves, _without_ wizards' presence." He seemed to pause. "You, my childe, can come anytime you'd like though." He flashed his sharp teeth in Harry's direction.

"Deal," Harry spoke. "When we win this war, you'll have the same rights as humans do. And for those werewolves who won't want to step in society, we'll reserve a forest for you." Harry shrugged. "It's the least I can do. _We_ can do." Green eyes narrowed in on an emotionless Dark Lord. "I'd like to inform you that you will be working with another group of magical creature."

Greyback raised an eyebrow suspiciously, his body moving fluidly as came to a stop in front of Harry. "And who is that?"

Harry smirked. "The vampires."

The werewolves surrounding them growled, baring their teeth. "And what are they gaining at the end of the war?" Fenrir growled, his canines sheathing. "Will we be forced to interact?"

"Surprisingly, they want to remain hidden after the war. You will have to work well with them during this war and only for the war. Do I have your word you will behave?" Fenrir stared at Harry and then at the Dark Lord. The werewolf's eyes glittered lethally as he surveyed Voldemort.

"Of course, Lord Malfoy," Fenrir turned back around; giving a slight bow with his chin. "As long as the bloodsuckers stay away, we will stay away." The werewolf paused, his nostrils flaring. "Your scent is tainted today, Childe, by his seed. It's revolting."

Harry flushed deeply while Voldemort put Greyback under a _Crucio._

** -SSC- **

"I don't need to be Seer to see that you harbor feelings for your… old apprentice." Regulus drawled, smirking at the silent figure of Master Keiran.

The yellow eye directed itself on him, assessing him. "I harbor _no_ feelings." And Regulus would have believed it a year ago. After all, assassins were cold, emotionless beings.

The Black assassin gave him an incredulous look. "Which is why you and the Dark Lord radiated revulsion for one another yesterday? It was positively obvious, Master. You don't like him because he and Harrison are together."

"You're right; I don't like the Dark Lord. He's arrogant, self-conceited, egotistical, and far too possessive over Harrison, who, by the way, can think for himself. I don't like seeing my apprentice being submissive to a wizard like that."

"Oh? But you wouldn't mind seeing Harrison writhing underneath _you_ in submission. Just like he did for the Dark Lord last night, I'm guessing. He surely wasn't healing like you ordered him to." Keiran whirled around, glaring at Regulus. The man's yellow eye was fierce.

"I don't know what I'm feeling for Harrison, simply because I haven't had emotions… _feelings_ for a long while now. I don't want to act on them… I don't even know if they're passionate feelings for him or it they're merely paternal feelings. All I know is I don't like him with the Dark Lord."

Regulus sat down on the chair in the Black library and looked at the Hand seriously. "Do you find him attractive?"

"Of course I do," Keiran hissed quietly. "Whomever doesn't- is blind."

Regulus bared his hands in a gesture of surrender. "You're right, of course. He is attractive; he gets that from the Black family." Regulus gave a smug smirk but it quickly died down when Keiran flashed him a disgusted look. "Well, I guess the only way you will know if you're attracted to him sexually is if…well…is if the idea of fucking him appeals to you." Keiran flashed him another look and walked out the library.

"Well…" Regulus stood up, walking behind his old master. "I guess that's a yes." Keiran remained silent, brooding. "From what I hear… the Dark Lord is wrapped around Harrison's finger. If the man does something wrong, it'll take Harrison a long while to forgive him."

"Why are you telling me this? As if I care?" Keiran drawled, turned around and causing Regulus to take a step back. "I don't _care_ about their relationship."

"All I'm saying is that you may want to consider…rocking the boat so to say."

Keiran took an advancing step forward. "And betray Harrison's trust? I think not."

"One little white lie won't hurt. Plus, I agree with you full heartedly. The Dark Lord is not good enough for Harrison. Granted, they both are a force to be reckoned with, but the man is far too… controlling." The two vampires studied one another, sizing each other up.

"What did you have in mind?" Keiran asked warily, tiredly.

** -SSC- **

"Harrison," Harry was embraced tightly by the black wizard. He fought a grin as arms encircled him, tightening. "You bloody hell left without saying anything."

"And yet, Draco said you knew where I was." Blaise smirked, pulling away. Harry frowned. "Pythia told you where I went, didn't she?"

"That was the first vision she had of you. Which is why she was interested in you in the first place. She knew you'd succeed where everyone else had failed." His dark eyes glanced beyond Harrison's shoulder at the brooding Dark Lord. Voldemort insisted he tagged along with Harry as he gathered the students that Draco herded from Hogwarts. At the moment, the man was hiding in the shadows, assessing the students who were brave enough to leave the school. Or, at least that's what if looked like to an outsider, but Harry knew the man was healing his wounded ego after Harry's tongue lashing about the werewolves' treatment.

Harry pulled away from Blaise and stepped down the stairs, studying the students himself. There were a handful of students, more than a handful. Most of them were older, and Harry thanked Merlin for that.

Perhaps around one hundred students, mostly Slytherins. They were all herded together, but no one was speaking. Instead, they cast nervous glances around each other. "I thank you for coming," Harry drawled out loudly, converting his face to a cold mask.

The students all snapped their necks around, staring at him in wonder and assessment. Draco, standing in the back of the manor, smirked at him and rolled his eyes upward. "It must have been around the time for finals… perhaps escaping the studying is why you decided to leave." Harry joked lightly. A few snickered, watching as he made his way down the stairs.

Voldemort stayed upstairs, choosing to allow Harry to comfort the children before he made his appearance.

Stepping onto the ground floor, Harry watched as a few students went to their knees. The younger students all shifted and fell to the ground, following the older students. Harry stood before them, nodding in approval. He met eyes with the Slytherins that would have graduated in a few days, giving them a tight nod. They smirked, looking back down to the ground.

"You may rise," Harry invited, watching as they scrambled up awkwardly. It would take some practice to do it swiftly…

The students stood straight shouldered, falling into their pureblood manner their parents bestowed on them. "Escaping your studies is not the only thing you must sacrifice by coming here." Harry started softly, eyeing each and every one of the children. Most of them looked down at his stare, too intimidated. "By being here, you have agreed to fight. And when I say fight, I mean, literally, fight for your _life_."

A few flinched but remained standing tall. "Being here… you are not only fighting for your life, but you are fighting to win. To succeed. The world we live in now is a prejudiced and narrow-minded place." He met eyes with Zachary Qawley, a seventh year Slytherin and a proud pureblood. His dark eyes assessed Harry in approval. "This war isn't just about Slytherin versus the light." Harry moved his eyes onto a Gryffindor and Ravenclaw standing near one another. "This is about fighting for our right to use dark magic without fear. This is about dark wizards and witches being able to hold their head up high in a society, among light wizards."

"When we win this war, muggles will be cut off entirely and light and dark will _coexist_ together. Our children… even some of _us_ will be taught dark magic in schools. That is what we're fighting for. If you're not ready to give up your life for this cause, you may leave now. I will not stop you nor hunt you down for leaving."

The students stood stiffly, not one of them moving an inch. Their heads were bowed down low in respect and readiness.

Harry nodded in appreciation. "The Ministry has no doubt heard of the split in Hogwarts and will be actively seeking you out. The Death Eaters and werewolves are already at the hideout in which you will all stay. There will be portkeys that take you to the camp. Food will be provided for you all and you will be not be permitted to _leave_ unless we are to go to battle _together_ or until this war is finished. You may not contact anyone. Not even your family."

Harry paced, looking at the students. "Your one main goal is survive. Your second main goal is to listen and _respect_ both the Dark Lord Voldemort and I." Stirs erupted within the crowd. Harry smirked. "In fact, your presence and willingness to fight in this war is greatly appreciated and the Dark Lord is here to see you off to his camp."

He withheld a smirk as Voldemort all but glided and slithered down the staircase. Whispers were sharp as the students all pushed themselves to fall to their knees. He let a chuckle out, glancing at Blaise up the stairs. The black wizard raised his eyebrows at Harry in amusement.

Voldemort came to a stop beside Harry, sneering lightly at the students. _"Be nice, Tom…"_ Harry hissed, watching a few of the children look up at him in awe.

" _That, love, was your part. I'm the enforcer, remember?"_

Harry remained silent, surveying the kneeling children. "As my consort has stated-," Harry remained blank, biting his tongue at his 'title'. "I apologize," the Dark Lord muttered softly, correcting himself. "As your _Lord_ had stated…"

Better.

"You have all signed your life away to me." Harry smirked as he felt the fear from the children. "You will listen to both my orders and Lord Malfoy's orders. I don't want to see any bravado. From any of you. If you wish to impress us, you will prove yourself on the battlefield _without_ causing a disturbance. Keep your chin down and you may find your chances of surviving greater." Voldemort paused, his slit crimson eyes looking down his nose at the children.

"And as Lord Malfoy stated earlier, you will not contact _anyone_. One owl can have the Ministry tracking us which would result in a surprise attack." Voldemort gave a twisted smile. "And that includes whoever was foolish enough to owl and go against my orders will find themselves disembodied." He left no room for argument and Harry could feel the students' apprehension. "If that is all?" Voldemort's voice softened as he turned to Harry.

Harry took a step forward. "As declared earlier, you will all be sharing grounds with the Death Eaters and werewolves." Harry let that sink in again. "If _any_ of them give you any trouble, you may take the issue up with us." Green eyes shot a look to an emotionless Dark Lord. "Preferably me." The Dark Lord would probably find it amusing if the werewolves or older Death Eaters were making hell for the younger wizards and witches.

As he stated this, he felt some of the earlier fear from Voldemort lift. "I will split you all into three groups when we arrive at the camp. You will share a tent together and get to know one another very well."

Harry nodded toward Draco. "Draco, could you bring the portkeys forward?" He waved a hand in front of the students. "You may rise."

He turned slightly to the side, ready to escape and help Draco, until he caught sight of a small body in the crowd of fourth year students and up. Harry grinned, approaching the students. They all parted for him, revealing a small first year boy.

The boy had blonde curls and bright brown eyes. He was an adorable little boy and it warmed Harry's chest as the child stood completely stiff with his chest out. "And what do we have here?" Harry murmured softly.

Brown eyes glanced quickly up at Harry and then forward. His stance remarkably like a soldier. "Matthew Jinkins, Lord Malfoy." Harry raised an eyebrow, wiping the smile off his face. He hid his amusement. Around them, the students were watching closely, assessing the situation.

"Mr. Jinkins, may I ask, what made you brave enough to come here?"

"My mother, my Lord Malfoy." The boy was completely respectful and full of strong will. Harry caved in and gave a soft smile, reaching out to caress the boy's hair with a coo. He was such a little thing… and his mother was the reason he was so strong. He thought of Narcissa briefly.

"Oh?" Harry whispered; dropping his hand as the boy gave a pleased shiver. "And what happened to your mother?"

Matthew sniffed. "She was a werewolf; I don't know what happened to her. But the Ministry took her away." Tears veiled the brown eyes but the boy refused to let them drop. "I want to _fight_ , My Lord. I'm not too young."

Harry glanced at the Dark Lord. Voldemort had a blank expression on his face, his lips twisted in a sneer. Honestly, that man… Turning back to the boy, Harry cupped the small chin in his fingers, soothing him. "We'll get your mother back, Mr. Jinkins. But alas, you are too young to participate in a war." Seeing the boy was about to protest, Harry shushed him. "You may come with us, yet you will _not_ participate in the battles. I will find a special job for you, understood?"

Matthew bowed his head. "Yes, My Lord."

"Good boy," Harry stroked the curls one last time before turning his back on the students and approaching the Dark Lord.

" _I'm tired,"_ Harry hissed in a whine. _"And I want_ you. _"_

Crimson eyes brightened at the prospect. _"We'll have to settle in the little brats first…I don't know why you won't just allow them to share the dirty den with the werewolves."_ Harry chuckled at that, motioning for Draco to place the portkeys on the ground before them, spread out evenly. The children all cautiously approached them, sending wary looks toward the Dark Lord as if he'd jump on them.

Looking at the children, he realized they weren't _really_ children. Not when they were willing to fight for their cause with their life.

"My mother should be joining us shortly," Blaise remarked. Harry felt Voldemort's spark of irritation at seeing the Zabini. "Any chance you'd bunk with me?" Blaise whispered huskily, throwing the Dark Lord a look.

The crimson eyed man hissed at him, his wand out in a matter of seconds. "You speak one more disrespectful word, or speak any more suggestive comments to _my_ consort, and your cock will do more than piss blood."

Harry sighed. "Touch the portkey now," Harry instructed, watching as they scrambled to do what he said while trying to make it look as if they weren't staring in fear at the Dark Lord's comment. "Blaise, _now_." He wasn't looking at the boy; instead he was facing forward, not allowing the students to see any favoritism. The black wizard brushed past him and herded around the other students.

Voldemort lifted his wand, making a circling motion, and with a crack, the students were gone.

"I'm tempted to leave them to the wolves," Voldemort hissed in disgust, reaching out to pull at Harry's collar. "You were magnificent today, my sweet." His lips burned Harry's neck as he sucked and nipped at the skin. "You were a little soft, but I think I can harden you up a bit." A long finger stroked Harry's crotch, causing the smaller wizard to groan lightly.

"Bloody bastard," Harry growled; closing his eyes as the Dark Lord gave a particularly hard bite to his neck.

Someone cleared their throat. "You do realize I'm here still, correct?"

Harry pulled away, looking at his brother. Voldemort looked at Draco with hooded eyes and a heavy sneer. "Then get lost, boy!" Voldemort barked.

Harry bit his lip as he watched Draco stumble over his feet in attempt to leave in a haste. "No, Draco, I'll apparate with you. We should be going anyway." Harry looked pointedly at the Dark Lord.

Voldemort hissed in displeasure, disapparating. "He's a right bastard," Draco drawled, glowering where Voldemort had just stood. "If I didn't know better, I'd say he needs to get laid."

"Respect, Draco," Harry scolded, grabbing his arm.

Draco pulled back, raising an eyebrow at his brother.

"You two _did_ fuck each other last night rig _-,"_

"That's _none_ of your business," Harry spat, taking the arm. "Now shut up and take my hand."

Silver eyes flashed in wicked amusement. "Was it good?"

A smirk was all the blonde boy got in answer.


	32. As You Fade to Black

** Chapter Thirty Two: As You Fade to Black **

Crouching down low, Harry could feel his pulse quicken as they came to a stop in front of the towering height of the front gate. Behind him, his army was following, on edge and just as excited as he was. With his Seer, he reached out and made certain there were no stranglers or frightened wizards paralyzed in terror. There were none. Hopefully Voldemort's group held no outliers.

Behind him, he led werewolves, assassins, students, and official Death Eaters. Voldemort led the same groups, werewolves excluded. While Harry was approaching Azkaban from the front, Voldemort had the back of the prison.

The Ministry would be arriving; he had no doubt about that. Along with the Order, the Aurors, and the Unspeakables. It was going to be a _fun_ night tonight. Behind him, he was conscious of Keiran and Draco hovering. Sirius was standing next to Regulus, unconscious to the fact it was actually his brother under the face scarf. It was amusing to watch their interaction, no matter how brief.

"Do you feel them?" Draco breathed; his eyes bright through the Death Eater mask he wore. "Dementors." A shiver ran through the group behind Harry and murmurs grew louder as a solid shadow approached them from the prison's gates.

They had just crossed the rocky cliffs and now stood behind the solid silver gates of Azkaban. The sign above them groaned and screeched, creating an eerie symphony along side of the heavy waves shattering against the cliff's sides. The salt water sprayed their skin, confusing them with the slight drizzle coming from the heavy black clouds from above. Azkaban's rocky island was not especially beautiful to look at, if not dreary, but it was the perfect setting for a change in history.

Harry curled his hand around the bar to the gate gazing up at the crooked and stone prison. His father was locked inside one of those cells, probably insane with the population of dementors circulating the floor of his holding cell. He would probably have to relive Narcissa's last moments over and over again, watching as she struggled through her last breath. As much as Harry was angry at his father for choosing Draco as the Malfoy heir, he knew, without a doubt, that Lucius had suffered enough by staying _here_.

Green eyes darkened as they stared at the prison and the dementors floating in circles in the front entrance. They weren't aware of them. Yet.

As soon as Harry tackled the dementors, he was to signal Voldemort the ok to enter the prison. The Dark Lord would then enter with his army and go to the upper levels of the prison to free the Death Eaters that were being held captive. And hopefully the werewolves. Voldemort hadn't been able to find out where they kept the werewolves from his spies in the Ministry. It was a heavy guarded secret.

One that Harry hoped he could crack quickly as he entered the prison.

Closing his eyes briefly, Harry reached out with his Seer to tickle the dementors. They flinched away from the contact as if burned. Frowning, Harry realized his Seer was far too emotional for the dementors to handle. Which made him realize that he could chase them away from Azkaban with _warm_ feelings. Feeling himself smirk, Harry bowed his forehead against the cool bars and focused on channeling his Seer to the population of dementors.

He was getting better of focusing on just one group of his prey and not everyone in proximity. Dementors had a similar aura and light… they were all somewhat linked together. He followed the dark link and sent jolts of happiness and joy throughout the creatures. Immediately, he could feel them shrivel and jerk under his control. Breathing heavily, Harry opened his eyes, watching as a few dementors escaped the prison and shoot away from the prison and away from his hold.

It wasn't long before the other dementors followed the others, escaping the prison's dark walls. "Bloody brilliant," Draco breathed behind him, watching the dark swarm of dementors trail a stain across the sky.

As soon as the dementors started leaking out of Azkaban, a shrilling alarm rang through the island. Red lights flashed, periodically, signaling of their break in. Harry winced. He hadn't meant to set off an alarm.

Raising his wand in the air, he murmured, _"Morsmordre."_ The acid green skull and serpent tainted the sky after the dementors, the signal for Voldemort to continue forward.

"At the ready," Harry straightened up, barking out his order to his army. The wizards and witches stiffened, their wands at the ready. With his magic, Harry pushed the gates apart, creating a gateway for their entrance.

As predicted, Aurors and Unspeakables apparated in front of them at the gate. Considering they were part of the Ministry, they had the right to go past the anti-apparation wards. The Order, on the other hand, would be arriving later on, hopefully.

Harry was amazed at the sheer size of the Aurors and Unspeakables. He knew they were a threat, but he never knew they were this… successful in gathering followers. Unspeakables stared out at them underneath deep grey hoods, the Ministry logo planted firmly on their breast. They were sure to have tricks up their sleeves, ones that even Harry would be wary of. They were brilliant witches and wizards, usually staying _out_ of the war.

The Aurors were clad in navy blue, their faces proudly displayed. Harry felt his sneer take place as he met Mad Eye Moody and Shaklebolt… and none other than Rufus Scrimgeour. "My…my…" Harry drawled sweetly under his hood. "If it isn't the Minister himself. On the battlefield." Despite his taunting, he knew Rufus Scrimgeour was a notorious fighter. "You're not afraid of losing your position as Minister by getting hurt?"

"Speaking of getting hurt, I'm surprised you're back for another round." Rufus frowned, his shoulders proud and his chin up high. "You look awfully short for the Dark Lord. Yet you lead his people." Harry grimaced.

At the moment, they were unaware of Voldemort and his army in Azkaban. But Harry knew they weren't stupid, they would soon find out their precious prison was being broke into. "His people, yes." Harry agreed, stalling as long as possible. "But mine as well."

He surveyed the army in front of him. He could feel their excitement and trepidation. But there were also a few that weren't carrying any emotions at all, and Harry knew, that under those grey hoods of the Unspeakables, were the vampire assassins. Interesting. "Oh?" Rufus' eyebrows went up in mock interest. "And will I have the pleasure to know of my enemy's identity, one powerful enough to earn the respect of the notorious Dark Lord?"

"Flattery will get you _no where,_ Minister." Harry smiled, lowering his hood. "But you already know me."

Rufus gave a slight wide-eyed expression, but otherwise, looked oddly composed. That could be for a number of reasons. The Minister could have had his own suspicions, Dumbledore could have told him, or the assassins could have confided in him. Either way, Harry wasn't too disappointed from the lack of reaction.

"Harrison Malfoy," Rufus held his wand more firmly.

"There are more wizards inside, Minister!" Harry sneered at the wizard in the back of the group, pointing up toward the windows of Azkaban. Harry glanced at the windows, seeing flashes of green and red lights as the Death Eater's broke open the cell doors.

Harry took the first step forward, raising his wand quickly. He was decent with nonverbal spells and wandless magic, able to force his raw magic to do his bidding- but that grew tiring after awhile. Nonverbal would be his course of action tonight, along with his Seer.

Spells were thrown at him with his advance and he placed a dome shield in front of him, deflecting most the curses. The hexes that went past his shield were easy enough to dodge quickly. Pushing himself through his shield, he attacked with the offensive. Waving his wand about him in quick slashes, he took a couple of Aurors down with the _Avada Kedavra._ He felt no sympathy for their fallen corpses and continued to advance further.

Around him, he saw Keiran's assassin's move in a blur, attacking the vampire's Harry knew to be Akira's men under the grey cloaks. The werewolves weren't any slower as they rushed forward, bloodlust shinning maliciously in their eyes. Their canines were out, anxious to feel the skin mold around their teeth, tasting the life blood of their enemies.

The students, Harry noticed, tended to stay behind him, using him as a sort of shield. But nonetheless, they fought. Voldemort's Death Eaters took the opposite role of the children and placed themselves in front of Harry.

With the mixture of sweat, rain, and sea water, Harry's hair curled in his face as he struggled to make his way deeper toward the prison. Aurors ran inside the prison, eager to take down Voldemort and his army. Sirius was all but breathing down Harry's neck, his emotions full of anxiety of finding Remus.

Up ahead, as they came close to the entrance of the prison, Harry saw Voldemort's men rush down the stairs, prisoners at their shoulders. The Azkaban prisoner's faces expressed the glee of being free and their bare feet revealed how cold they were. "They're not here," a hissing voice addressed Harry through the crowd.

Turning, he met crimson eyes. "The werewolves?" Harry inquired softly, feeling Sirius shudder mentally behind him. "But-,"

Before he could conclude his train of thought, the whole island seemed to shudder. Sirius gave a shocked breath, holding on to Harry for balance. The smaller wizard could barely stand up himself and used the rocky wall for support. Turning quickly, he noticed the source of the explosion. The Unspeakables were throwing small fist sized balls at the Death Eaters, creating an explosion.

"We have our men, Harrison," Voldemort hissed out, narrowing his eyes at the Unspeakables. "We need to retreat. The students are not prepared for war as we would have liked." The students in question were herded together, their Death Eater masks heavy and almost too big on their faces. They looked inexperienced, frightened. And the Aurors pounced at that.

Lord Voldemort stepped out the prison, outside, drawing attention from both enemies and allies alike. Harry withheld a smirk. Tom _would_ have that affect on people. He drew the energy to him like months to light. His tall and thin frame was a stark contrast from the shorter and stockier wizards. And that wasn't mentioning his alluring and powerful aura.

Harry rolled his eyes upward as Voldemort cackled in glee, slaughtering the enemies in his way.

They had planned to have a boat circle the island, full of Death Eaters ready to take them toward the middle of the sea where the anti-apparation wards were dropped. Granted, it was a small boat, but a magical one, fitting an unlimited amount of wizards… even if it was a small army. Now all they had to do was make it to the boat…

Just as he was about to follow Voldemort, a hand grabbed his arm, holding him back. "Please Harrison, please," Sirius breathed heavily in his ear. "Please. I know he's here."

Voldemort hesitated, glancing over his shoulder when he realized Harry wasn't by his side. "I'll meet up with you," Harry motioned with his chin for Voldemort to continue on. "Try to get the students out of here. _Alive."_ He added, seeing the snarky grin the man was sporting. Voldemort was on a high right now. Nothing could faze him but the excitement of the kill.

Turning away from the Dark Lord, Harry pushed himself and Sirius deeper in the prison. They brushed past the prisoner's running barefoot out the prison, excited expressions on their faces. Harry didn't see his father, but he could have escaped when he wasn't looking. "Protect me," Harry ordered Sirius sharply, closing his eyes at the same time. He leaned his back against a cold crook in the stone, breathing in deeply.

His Seer sparked and tasted the environment around him. Immediately, he was assaulted with pain, fright, excitement, anger… insanity. Harry's knees buckled as he leaned more heavily against the wall. Sweat beaded the skin above his brow and his small frame shook with the assault of powerful emotions. He had never opened his Seer up fully like this, with a situation like this.

But it was necessary if he wanted to pinpoint hidden werewolves.

Werewolves' auras were different from humans. They were wild, they were untamed. Slowly, he blocked out the humans' and vampires' emotions and auras and focused on the werewolves. He could feel the werewolves outside, their bloodlust and excitement… their strong link to one another through the pack bond. But there was another group he could feel… and they were coming from directly under his feet.

Gathering his strength, he stood up fully, snapping back to his body. Sirius was standing agitatedly next to him, his wand out and ready. "The werewolves are underground."

Dark navy eyes crinkled. "There is no basement to Azkaban."

"Exactly my thoughts," Harry replied bitterly, glancing around the corner at the battle raging out front. "Get Greyback, hurry." Without a word, his cousin ran through the front doors of Azkaban, searching out for the Alpha werewolf.

Harry's knees shook, making him realize that allowing his Seer complete control was both physically and emotionally tiring. But when he remembered Matthew, the eleven year old boy who had expressed his determination to get his mother back, Harry would stop at nothing to resurrect that mother-son bond. Down there, Harry assumed there was a blond mother, yearning to hold her beautiful child once more.

Teeth snapped in front of him, snapping him out of his thoughts and spraying blood of the enemy across his face. "What is it?" Greyback growled, huffing. Harry eyed the blood smeared across the werewolf's face in disinterest. Behind the half naked werewolf, Sirius was grimacing deeply at the image.

"I need you to sniff out the entrance to the underground. Werewolves are being locked down below and you can sniff them out."

Greyback, batting his eyelashes down at Harry, scoffed. "You expect me to leave my pack alone in battle?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, Harry raised his eyebrows. "You have a beta, do you not?" Greyback's eyes flashed and his crimson stained teeth bore in a grimace. "Now is the time to test his worth. And in the meantime, you can help rescue potential pack members." Finally getting a pair of pants, Harry was met with the rock hard muscle of Greyback's sweaty torso, thankfully nothing lower.

"Fine," Greyback growled again, pushing Sirius aside. The Black stumbled, giving off a shocked yell at the action. Harry ignored them, tapping his foot slightly in impatience as Greyback took deep intakes of breath, smelling. His Seer was pulling at his subconscious, telling him the werewolves down below were unhealthy, sickly, and frightened… yet hopeful. They could probably hear the alarms going off and the smell of blood and gore.

Lupin was down there. And Sirius would finally shut _up._

Fenrir's large shoulders tensed and contracted as he prowled down a sharp corridor. Harry threw a look at Sirius, who glanced at him in turn. The older wizard took off after Fenrir after a look from Harry.

Following at a much slower pace, Harry glided down the corridor, ignoring the cell doors on either side of him. Azkaban was like a maze. An iron clad maze. There was the main lobby, the entrance to the prison, full of dust, dirt, and brick. After the main lobby, it branched off in several different directions. Each aisle of holding cells was tiny, barely big enough for Fenrir to freely squeeze through. Hands could touch the werewolf's shoulders from the prison cells, causing Fenrir to pause in his search and snarl loudly at the prisoners.

Harry took this in stride, amazed that there were five floors of this… just this aisle alone had hundreds upon hundreds of cells. He wondered how Voldemort and his Death Eaters got the locked servants out as fast as they did.

"Help us… please…" a woman moaned as they passed her cell.

"I'm a Death Eater, take me out, please." Another one begged, reaching out his dirt filled hands. His eyes were glossy as they stared up at Harry.

"You're better off dead," Harry informed the insane inmate. "You'd never survive out in the world…" He swept quickly past, eyeing Greyback's bulky form in front of him.

The Alpha sniffed, pausing near the center of the corridor. The floor they were standing upon was soaked with water. "Here," Greyback barked, opening a cell door. Surprisingly enough, there was no prisoner inside. Instead, it was empty. Looking closer, Harry could see the raw indentation in the stone wall.

Stepping past Fenrir, Harry reached out, his fingers coming in contact with the cold stone. He could feel their emotions. So strong. So desperate for help. For release. "They're here… the passage way is here. Help me open it. There must be a trigger somewhere." Harry patted the stone, hoping beyond hope that it didn't need a password to open. Fenrir and Sirius looked at one another outside the cell and pushed at each other to get inside.

Of course Greyback was the bigger of the two and easily knocked Sirius out of the way. Harry's cousin went stumbling in a whirlwind inside the cell, falling heavily on his arse. And with contact with the floor, the stones rumbled and slowly opened.

Harry blinked, throwing both the two men behind him a look. They looked innocently back at him, glancing at the passage way behind him. Turning back around, Harry flicked his wand in the air, lighting it. He refused to even think on the proceedings that had just transpired. Pure luck.

The stone steps leading down were narrow and small. He was sure Greyback would be stumbling down them. With that in mind, Harry hurried down, not wanting to be crushed underneath a rolling Alpha werewolf.

Once he stepped off the last step, he stared in amazement at the sight before him. Behind him, he was subconsciously aware of Sirius shouting in shock and Greyback knocking them down the rest of the steps. Not sparing the two a glace, Harry's attention was on the dingy basement. The cells were bigger than the ones upstairs, but they were made of pure silver.

"Merlin," Harry whispered, feeling the pain of the werewolves, the fright.

They howled and whispered to him, pleading and crying. Their amber eyes seemed to reflect off his wand light, giving the eerie picture an even more desolate look. "Bloody hell," Sirius moaned behind him, with both pain of Greyback knocking him over and the sight before him. "Remus?" He ventured off, his voice similar to a lost little boy.

"Sirius, Harrison…" a dry and hoarse voice cried out further down the aisle of cells.

Sirius gave a shocked breath, lighting his own wand and running down the wet path. His shoes were splattering the ankle deep water, giving the underground atmosphere uncanny echoes.

The werewolves all inched closer to the bars of their cages, pleading with Harry to let them go. "Hush now," Harry started, beginning to open the cell doors. "You'll all be out of here." Fenrir was a breathing beast down his neck, gazing at the werewolves with an unreadable expression on his face. The man's amber eyes then turned to Harry, watching him closely as he helped the stumbling werewolves out of the cell.

Harry ignored the Alpha's stare, grateful that Sirius was helping further down. "Thank you, thank you." One of the men moaned up at Harry, touching his grimy hands to Harry's face. Harry gave a nod, feeling overwhelmed with all the emotions of overpowering appreciation and gratitude. He tried not to look too long in the cells, for he was revolted by the conditions they lived in… for Merlin knew how long.

Tears and murmurs of thanks spread through the corridor, giving Harry a headache. He wasn't used to…saving people like this.

"Quiet," Fenrir barked throughout the small corridor, causing his roar to echo. Immediately, the werewolves all simpered and listened to the commanding voice. "Do you hear that?" Fenrir murmured to Harry, looking up at the underground ceiling.

Everyone became tense as they heard the familiar sound of running footsteps. Harry focused on the sound, noticing it was coming closer. The Ministry knew they were down here. The werewolves all became hysterical again, creating a wave of noise.

"Quiet," Harry shouted, throwing his wand arm straight up. The affect was just as successful as Fenrir's order. The occupants all stopped, staring at him in awe as they felt his magic peak. Considering they were werewolves, his Seer also affected them, making them feel the urge to grovel and rub against him. "Is everyone out of the cells?"

"Yes, My Lord," a man spoke up deeply, bowing his head.

"Good," Harry started, not giving them enough time to start speaking again. "Listen closely. There is a large boat circling the island. On this boat are Death Eaters and werewolves… and vampires. They are not your enemies. Try your hardest to swim toward the boat, you hear me?"

"Swim?" One of them whispered uncertainly.

"Of course, swim." Harry replied, turning to Greyback. "We are under water right now. There is no chance we can make it out through the main level. We'll have to spell our way through the walls and into the sea."

"Sirius," Harry drew attention toward the man who was currently embracing Lupin. "I need you to help me cast the Bubble-Head charm on everyone. Quickly." Casting his wand, he nonverbally placed the bubble charm on Greyback. The man gave him a glower, looking rather amusing with a bubble across his face. "You'll thank me later," Harry snapped back, withholding his chuckle.

Harry began to hurriedly cast the spell on as many werewolves as he could. The footsteps grew louder and closer, becoming more urgent. "That's all of them, Harry." Sirius breathed, frowning.

Pushing past the werewolves, Harry made his way to the back of the corridor of holding cells and focused on the wall in front of him. There were already leaks in the wall, causing water to drip from between the stones. Feeling his magic rise, Harry gave a grunt, thrashing his wand across his body. The stone wall erupted, creating a large tunnel to the outside sea. "Hurry, hurry," Harry shouted, his knees already submerged in the rushing water.

The closest werewolves crawled and swam their way in the tunnel. The tunnel itself wasn't very long, only a few meters. "Remember, find the boat." Greyback stood next to Harry, refusing to be one of the first one's out. The remanding werewolves all scrambled to the exit of the tunnel, pushing through the onslaught of water and swimming to the other side.

By now, the cool water was chest deep on Harry. Because he was the shortest one in the bunch, it only reached other's stomachs. "Go Sirius," Harry urged as the wizard seemed to hesitate about going through.

Sirius shook his head, pushing at Lupin. The werewolf nodded, going through the tunnel. Harry gave a strangled breath, the water at his chin. It was cold and salty, causing his mouth to curl. A hand clutched at the cloth around his back and hauled him further up out of the water. Green eyes glanced at Greyback, giving the man a look. Before he could say anything, he heard shouts coming from the staircase.

The Unspeakables and Aurors came stumbling down the stairs, assessing the situation. They didn't take long to react and Harry threw on his own Bubble-Head charm, sinking out of Greyback's hold and into the water depths. He pushed at Sirius' legs, urging him through the tunnel. The wizard hesitated but with a pinch from Harry, he continued forward. Only Greyback and Harry were left.

Harry reached out and grabbed Greyback's hand, pulling the werewolf underwater. The Alpha werewolf grumbled, tugging Harry's arm in his own hold, pushing him through the tunnel. Harry knew, Greyback's character wouldn't allow to put himself in front of people he considered his 'pack'. For some strange reason, the werewolf thought Harry as a member.

Swimming through the tunnel, Harry was aware of the Ministry members on their tail.

Finally out of the tunnel and into the wide open sea, Harry whirled around; his wand pointed directly at the tunnel Greyback was currently exiting.

He had just saved a whole lot of werewolves.

Now it was time to balance out the good with a little _fun_.

The first head through the tunnel was immediately beheaded.

** -SSC- **

Voldemort inhaled, narrowing his eyes at the outstretch of sea. He was standing upon the boat, the surviving army all secure and ready to leave the island. The Azkaban prisoners were all accounted for and their casualty was nothing to cause a deep dent.

But the missing…

He sneered, his gaze diverting toward the prison. Harrison had yet to come, the same for Black and Greyback. But the latter two weren't worth his worry. Harrison shouldn't even be worth his agitation. He knew his Match was quite able to handle himself in the battle. But what was taking him so long? There were _no_ werewolves in Azkaban. Snape must have gotten his story wrong, once again. And Black was too sentimental to come to terms with the fact that his lover, Lupin, wasn't in the building. And he had to drag his Match on a useless and suicidal search.

"Master," a Death Eater went down on his knees. "The Unspeakables and Aurors have yet to come after us on boats, but it's only time before they do. And they'll stop us before we reach the anti-apparation wards. We have all the prisoners, would you like to continue forward?"

Without looking at the Death Eater, Voldemort placed his wand in between the fool's eyes. He could feel the servant tense considerably. "We do not leave behind our Lord, boy. Lord Malfoy has yet to grace us with our presence." Pushing his wand harder into the boy's sensitive skull, he raised his voice for the curious onlookers. "We do not leave without him."

"My Lord! Look!" Voldemort whirled around, ready to curse the speaker to a painful torture for interrupting him, but remained tightlipped as he witnessed a few heads breaking the water. "Werewolves… they're werewolves. Where did they come from?"

Most the army was below in the magical expanded area, and luckily the vampires were attended for beneath the deck. He didn't have the patience to deal with the hisses and growls between the two animals.

"Do stand there," Voldemort spat at the Death Eater. "Pull them up." The cloaked Death Eaters all scrambled to the edge of the boat and leaned down to help up the out of breath werewolves. Water dripped all over the deck and a few members from the level below poked their heads up to see the commotion. Meddlesome bastards.

Speaking of bastards… that little minx…

He felt his lip curl into a smirk as he surveyed all the werewolves approaching the boat. Harrison had done this. He had gathered more followers, he did the impossible. As much as he wanted to strangle the minx for putting himself in unnecessary danger, in order to _save_ a few werewolves, he found himself impressed.

It took a while to get all the werewolves dried and on deck, but eventually, Voldemort found himself standing, waiting. Again. "Where is he?" he rounded on Black and Lupin. Black cowered away from him, looking uncertainly in the water.

"I thought he was just behind me… Greyback and he were the last two out. By that time, the Unspeakables and Aurors were on our tail." Voldemort hissed at him and the wizard paled sickly in fear.

Crimson eyes turned away fro Black, locking with shielded yellow. He gave another sneer at the Hand of the Assassin Guild and turned his back on the brooding figure. If Harrison didn't come back within a few minutes, he would take out his anger on that bloody vampire. Already, he felt his fingers itch near his wand.

"Another one," a Death Eater murmured, bringing attention toward the edge of the boat. "Black hair, looks like Lord Malfoy." Being the willing servant he was, he leaned down to help the body up. _"Agh!"_ The Death Eater screamed, holding up only a head. He flung the bodiless head across the deck, causing others to rear away, looking at the head in horror.

Voldemort felt something coil in his stomach as he strode toward the black haired head. If that were Harrison…

Leaning down, he gently turned the head around, locking eyes with surprised blue. "Fool," Voldemort sneered. "This is _not_ Lord Malfoy." He took the head in his hand and chucked it at the Death Eater foolish enough to declare Harrison's death. It made him realize just how fragile Harrison was. He didn't _have_ seven Horcruxes. He didn't have a second chance if he slipped just once in battle.

Voldemort would have to remedy that.

The Death Eater he tossed the head at, stumbled and fell in the sea. Death Eaters and werewolves alike all snickered and laughed at the wizard in the water. "My Lord," Keiran, the bloody vampire, spoke up. Turning his chilling gaze at the assassin, Voldemort raised his eyebrows expectedly. "We have just one more problem…" Keiran turned his head up toward the sky and gave a nod toward the clouds.

"Dementors are back. And we have no Seer to ward them off."

And none of them could cast a Patronus. And those of them that could, wouldn't be powerful enough to ward off the hundreds that were currently swarming out of the clouds towards them.


	33. I Will See You Screaming

** Chapter Thirty Three: I Will See You Screaming **

Voldemort stared at the dementors through lowered lids. On the outside, no one would be the wise to his uncertainty, his slight fear. Instead, he appeared calm- almost bored. "My Lord?" one of the Death Eaters questioned, staring up at the swirling dementors. "What would you like us to do?"

Crimson eyes turned away from the dementors and out into the sea. Blood stained the water, giving his stomach an ugly twist. Harrison had yet to arrive. With a swish of his cloak, he snapped at attention, sneering at the Death Eaters, werewolves, and vampires. "Those of you who are able to fight split up into two groups." He didn't pause in his orders, but the minions all scrambled on deck, hurrying to follow the orders. "I want those of you who are capable to cast the _Patronus_ spell on the right."

Four. Four wizards who could cast a successful _Patronus_.

Voldemort hissed in displeasure, narrowing his eyes. "Fools," he took an advancing step forward, watching as they seemed to shrink at his proximity. "I want two _even_ groups. Quickly." The Death Eaters hurried to even out the two groups and before they knew it, Voldemort was urging them off the boat. "Bring Lord Malfoy back successfully." He turned his back on the group of diving wizards and faced the other group, motioning them stand at the ready.

They looked uncertain as they shakily stood on the deck, pointing their wands toward the sky.

Ignoring them, Voldemort turned his back on his followers and closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath, he tried to block out the approaching dementors. Instead, he focused on his Match. Harrison. He had focused intentionally on his Match a few other occasions, sometimes to spy on him, sometimes to look after him. At the moment, he saw through his Match's eyes as he battled against the Ministry fools.

" _What are you doing?"_ Harry murmured, feeling his presence. _"Why haven't you left yet? I'm holding them off for you to escape."_

" _You must be a fool to believe I will leave you in their hands."_ Voldemort hissed angrily.

Harrison stayed silent, fighting off three Ministry members at once. _"The dementors, I can feel them approaching…"_ Harrison's breath was coming out muffled. _"Use me as a conduct, Tom. I trust you."_

Voldemort hesitated, feeling Harrison's magical core. It thrummed and lured him, tempting and enticing him. Harrison, his Match, so powerful, so addicting…. _"You're certain?"_ He had never taken Harrison's magic before and used it for himself. It was possible, with their status of being Match's, but it had to be given freely.

Without words, Harrison pushed at him, urging him to share his magic, his abilities. Immediately, Voldemort could feel the swell of emotion inside his body. He choked, never feeling anything like it before. The raw emotions of happiness of joy… it was never felt by him. Not like this. Subtlety, yes, but never like this. Tearing from Harrison's mind, he kept his mental grasp on Harrison's magical core and Seer.

The dementors hesitated, feeling the emotional waves from Voldemort.

Raising his wand, Voldemort shut his eyes once again, feeling a raw emotion of love, lust, affection.

And then the memories assaulted him.

_ He clutched the small body beneath him, shuddering from the pleasure and desire. Startling green eyes stared up at him, full of trust and affection. Small hands grabbed his face, bringing him down for a breathless kiss. _

The memories, they were all Harrison. And they weren't all of making love. No, they were full of arguments and hate… but every one of those memories were filled with such emotion. His _own_ emotions.

Twirling his wand in the air, he murmured, _"Expecto Patronum."_ With his memories and Harrison's Seer inside him combined, he felt a brilliant burst of power escape him and out his wand. Snapping his eyes open, he met eyes with startling green.

The beautiful figure reached out to run his fingers down Voldemort's cheek before confronting the dementors. Voldemort watched the angelic figure chase off the dementors, every last one of them. As soon as the dark figures flew away from Azkaban Island, a large explosion erupted from the sea. Death Eaters, who had been watching the Dark Lord in amazement, all stumbled- losing their balance.

Voldemort whirled around, his magical grasp with Harrison disappearing. The silver _Patronus_ of his lover dissolved in mid air.

Something was not right.

** -SSC- **

Harry grinned manically as the blood stained the water. So easy… and so fun…

His body slumped slightly as he felt Voldemort drain his magic and use his Seer. Of course, he knew and accepted that it would happen, but he wasn't prepared for the oncoming attack from the Ministry.

With a raging yell, three Unspeakables attacked. And as soon as they attacked, Voldemort used his magic, successfully making him vulnerable to their onslaught. A spell caught his bicep and ripped a good wound deep in his skin while another cut deeply in his chest. It burned. The salt water and the blood… Merlin.

Tipping back his head, he gave a pained scream. Subconsciously, he was aware of Tom's success with the dementors. They had fled the proximity once again. And subconsciously, he was also aware of the fact of approaching Death Eaters.

Greyback's claws were out, easily shredding his enemies. Knowing the werewolf, he was probably disappointed he wasn't able to taste the blood of his enemy through the Bubble Head Charm. His amber eyes were glowing in the dim sea and as soon as Harry screamed out, the Alpha swung around, eyeing Harry.

The Unspeakables chuckled lowly, their wands already shooting more hexes with Harry's hesitation. His whole body shuddered with the loss of blood and the wand between his fingers slipped from his grasp. Around him, the water was stained with crimson blood, obscuring his vision. It was fun when it was his enemies' blood. But his… it looked horrible. His magic lashed around him, tearing at the water and toward the Unspeakables.

Greyback roared, swimming toward the three enemies and pouncing on one. Flesh broke from the light wizard as the Alpha wolf unleashed his vengeance.

"Malfoy, I'll have your head." Mad-Eye Moody growled, his body looking oddly amusing in the water. Harry grunted, the world spinning before him. Through lowered lids, he watched Mad Eye and a whole lot of wizards escape from the hole of the prison. They all had him in their sights…

He wouldn't be able to defend himself.

With that last desperate thought, his magic tugged through the link of Voldemort and drained his Match's own core. The amount of power was too much… it hurt…

Giving a desperate scream, Harry focused his magic onto the prison. And with a loud eruption, the tunnel leading out into the sea exploded. The bodies inside and outside were flown apart with the impact. But the bottom of the prison was not the only piece of building affected.

Because the foundation exploded, the rest of the prison seemed to shudder and tremble, on the verge of collapsing.

Harry didn't get a chance to observe his damage, for a heavy piece of debris slammed in his head, knocking him out.

** -SSC- **

Greyback stirred, waking up to arms pulling at his body. He snarled, snapping to conscious. Above him, Death Eaters were trying to pull at his arms. Further above, he could see a boat rocking with the waves. "Come on, wolf," the Death Eater grunted. "You've been buried alive."

His body cut itself on the sharp rocks around him, making him realize the foolish wizard had been right. He had been knocked out by the explosion, by the avalanche of stone and rocks. Who knew how long he'd been out? Luckily enough, the Seer's underwater charm was still in place over his mouth and nose.

He tugged his arm back, snarling at the Death Eater. "Get off me, fool." The Death Eater stumbled back. As he should.

Full of aches and wounds, Fenrir pushed his body upward, swimming toward the boat. On the boat, he could smell his pack. His pack wasn't the only smell he could sense. Thick headed wizards were on the boat along with the blood suckers. He felt a sneer deepen his lips. Vampires… the only reason he held himself at bay was because of Harrison. The pretty boy was a decent leader and he treated both him and his pack with respect and equality.

Fenrir truly believed Harrison was something else. Not the power hungry Dark Lord, not the one who used others to their own advantage, but a leader who stayed true to his word and protected his followers.

Not to mention the boy was simply beautiful.

If Fenrir didn't have the Dark Lord breathing down his neck every time he was around Harrison, he'd make his own move. Who wouldn't enjoy a few hours in the presence of an Alpha?

And to make this war even more interesting, his pack got to taste the blood of the enemies. There was nothing more satisfying then tearing those bastards to shreds. And after the war, he was certain the Moon Childe would grant his wishes in giving him his own territory. His pack would thrive and expand strongly.

Breaking the water, the magic around his face broke.

The first thing he saw was Black's ugly mug. The mutt was huffing and puffing, staring into the depths of the water with a desperate look to him. "Greyback," Black breathed, his lover, Lupin- the other mutt- was staring over his shoulder. "Wasn't Harry with you?"

Fenrir allowed himself to be pulled up by his beta and pack members. Their presence soothed him, yet put him on guard. Because if he slipped, others would fight for the chance to claim Alpha ground.

The Dark Lord stood on the side of the boat, staring at him through snake eyes. Fenrir felt his lip rise. "You're telling me he's not on the boat?" He barked, looking around at the faces of the dark army. As far as he knew, Harrison would have been the only reason someone came back to get him. The others would have cared a less. "Put the charm back on me, I'll go look." He ordered Black.

Sirius fumbled for his wand and grey paler as the Dark Lord brushed past him. Before they knew it, the Dark Lord Voldemort dived gracefully into the crimson water. "Cast it, you mutt!" Greyback snarled, pushing at the fool.

Sirius bent down to pick his wand up, but the wand was taken by pale fingers. All eyes shot toward the figure of Lucius Malfoy.

The man looked like a pale skeleton, his glow and radiance- gone.

Cold silver eyes stared emotionless at Black and Greyback. His tatty grey prison robes washed him out considerably and the dark circles under his eyes gave his silver eyes an odd shine. His arrogance was lost. Instead, he appeared cold and impassive.

"Just find my damn son," his voice was raspy as he cast the charm on Fenrir.

Greyback backed away, giving the man a glare. How dare that aristocrat-

Malfoy then cast the charm on Black and a few other wizards. "Find my son!" Lucius snarled, throwing the wand at hitting Black on the forehead. "Find him!" And Fenrir knew, the man was so very close to breaking.

The Death Eaters shrank back from Malfoy, both wary of his power and influence he held from both the Lords. Lucius calmly turned his back and sunk on the ledge of the boat. Underneath his robes, Fenrir could see the shaking legs- weak from the many months in Azkaban.

Fenrir pushed Black off the boat into the bloody sea, diving in after him.

** -SSC- **

Harry's eyes snapped open and he gave a shocked breath. Eyes, so cold and shocked, stared down at him. Only when he realized his enemy was a dead corpse, did he allow himself to relax. Everything on him was sore and torn. He couldn't move and his magic was only a small flame. He had overused his core in battle and it would take a few days to recuperate back to his old self.

There were bodies upon bodies on top him. Not only were corpses laying on him, but stones- rocks. He was having difficulty breathing with the weight on his wounded and torn chest. He groaned, closing his eyes.

Hopefully Tom had _left_. The Order was bound to be arriving shortly and he was positive the Ministry members who weren't blown away were just as vengeful. Perhaps a few days from now, he would have enough strength to push the rocks off with his magic. Until then, he needed sleep… hopefully he hadn't lost too much blood.

"Harrison," he heard the voice. Keiran. "Harrison!" It was so far…

"Master Keiran," Harry whispered; his voice hoarse and too quiet. He called for his Master, to the vampire. Hopefully the Assassin Hand could hear in the water as well as on land. "Keiran…"

"Over here," it was a different voice. Merlin it was that damned fool… Tom.

Harry didn't have the time to complain about his Match's foolishness, for the weight on top of him seemed to lessen before the body on top of him was thrown off. He laid on the sandy bottom, staring into the crimson eyes of his lover. The Dark Lord held both their wand in his grasp, his own eyes searching Harry.

"Merlin, Harrison," Voldemort murmured, scooping him up in his arms. Those arms… as sappy as it sounded, they felt secure. Harry nodded off, watching above as Greyback and Sirius came swimming down to them.

** -SSC- **

_ He was walking stealthily through the train station. There were no students, no wizards, no parents… it was desolate. The isolation sent him on edge and he gripped his dagger as a security blanket. The brilliant red train sat still, the engine quiet and whispering. _

_ Harry frowned, not realizing what was happening. It was obviously a vision… but… _

" _Harrison."_

_ He whirled around at the childish whisper. And on the floor, near a pillar, sat a crouched form of Tom Riddle. He was an adorable child, looking up at him through wise and old eyes. "You shouldn't have come." _

" _You're trapped here. Of course I had to come." Harry found himself saying. "Let's get you out of here and into another Horcrux."_

_ Tom's dark eyes assessed him obsessively. The look made him shiver. It was difficult seeing such a stare on a little boy- around ten or nine. "I knew you'd come for me." Tom gave a breathless whisper. "You foolish little boy." He went on scolding, but a small smile tugged the edges of his mouth. "Show me what damage you can do, my love. Because he's right behind you." _

_ Harry whirled around, getting a brief glimpse of Dumbledore before he was lifted off his feet. _

Harry blinked his eyes open, calm and collected. His thoughts were raging. What the bloody hell had that been? It was Tom, yes, but he was a small child who looked incredible weak and vulnerable. And Dumbledore was there, guarding over him. And he had mentioned bringing the small child into another Horcrux.

His stomach tugged painfully.

Tom was going to die.

A deep frown marred his features as he stared up at the canopy. But Tom couldn't die. He had countless of Horcruxes… perhaps… perhaps that was the place he went to between worlds- between transformations. But why was Dumbledore there? No, he knew what the old fool was there for. He was making sure Tom couldn't go back to the world. He was guarding over Tom, preventing him from entering another Horcrux.

Harry knew one thing. He needed to talk to Pythia. Somehow, Harry had to get between worlds…but how?

"You're awake." Green eyes turned toward the Assassin Hand. "You should still be resting."

His surroundings appeared to be that of the camp. He was inside Voldemort's tent, upon the bed he gave himself to his lover not too long ago. "How long have I been unconscious?" Harry grounded out, frowning at his voice.

"Only three hours, mind you."

"Three hours too long, Master." Harry replied, sitting up slowly. The deep cuts on his chest and arm were healed nicely. Nothing but soreness pulled at his muscles. "What were the casualties?" Turning back toward the vampire, he frowned at the intensity of the stare.

"The south side of the prison was destroyed. The remanding prisoners inside escaped… or attempted to, at least. The dementors came back after our departure, as did the Order and the Ministry forces reestablished. Luckily enough, our casualty wasn't even _near_ the number of casualties on the Ministry's side. A good part is because of your explosion in the sea." Keiran cocked his head to the side, his yellow eye intense. "You did a good job, apprentice."

Harry grinned lightly, his feet hanging off the side of his bed. "Is everything alright?" Harry ventured. "You seem… distracted. And that's not like you, Master. You're always focused and clear to read." His Seer reached out and touched Keiran. The vampire was feeling uncertain and his emotions were conflicting. They were hard to read, hard to see…

"Akira is still at large, he wasn't at the breakout. Some of his assassins were, though."

Harry grimaced. "That's not all that's wrong."

Keiran stood up abruptly, brushing his gloved hands down his black attire. "You frightened me for a moment, Harrison. For just a moment…" Keiran paused, looking down. "I thought you had died." The vampire looked back up at him. "But I had a feeling you were strong enough to stand against the attack. I shouldn't have doubted you."

The two stared at one another, both silent.

"You can't get rid of me that easily, Master." Harry attempted to lighten the mood, feeling something twist in both his stomach and chest. "You taught me too well."

"That I have," Keiran agreed, his face closing up. "Your lover is eager to see you. He just recently left your side to attend to his army."

Standing up slowly, Harry grabbed the heavy cloak at the end of the bed. "I'd better help him out." He'd rather not appear weak and damaged to the rest of the army. Throwing his cloak on, he turned to see Keiran appearing hesitant, almost troubled as he stared at the bedside. Pursing his lips, Harry watched the vampire. "You know, Master… I never did thank you for everything you did for me. You are one of the only people I've trusted this much. Thank you for showing me that not everyone destroys such a fragile thing as trust."

Keiran stayed stiff.

And then he became animated again. The vampire whirled around smoothly, appearing across from Harry within seconds. He laid a hand on Harry's cheek, tilting his head slightly. "And I will do _nothing_ to ruin that trust, Harrison. Nothing." He said fiercely, as if he'd come to terms with something.

Keiran than let him go and escaped the bedroom. Harry stared at the vacant space in front of him, hoping beyond hope that Keiran understood his meaning. There was something wrong with Keiran. Whatever it was, he was debating on whether to act on it or not. And hopefully Harry had given him a good enough warning… a disguised warning.

Breathing deeply, Harry calmly exited the tent.

His lips quirked when he watched official Death Eaters bark out orders to the students. It appeared as if they were training the younger men and women, not allowing any room for failure. Standing there, watching, Harry was proud. They looked like a solid army, working together and trying their best to appear strong and unified. No, they didn't _try_ they _did_ look unified. All of them wore dark cloaks of the Death Eaters and all of them had a mask attached around their necks.

The army looked strong and willing… willing…

"They were pathetic during the battle," a voice hissed to his left. "I'm having them _shape_ up a bit."

"They were rather pathetic, weren't they?" Harry murmured, watching as a few of his classmates were knocked off their feet for slacking. "Nonetheless, it was their first battle. They will do better next time."

"With the help of the Death Eaters." Harry smirked, looking up at Tom. Crimson eyes were hooded as they watched their army. Merlin… he was going to die… "You were foolish to do such a thing today. _Stupid_." His words were so like his child's form in Kings Cross. Harry refused to allow it to affect him.

"I could say the same about you, Tom." Harry murmured softly, knowing the man was watching him from the corner of his eye. "You should have left without Greyback and I. The Order could have gotten there quicker and you all would have been sitting ducks."

"But they didn't show until we left, did they?" Voldemort pressed back. The Dark Lord's arm slyly moved and cupped Harry's thin neck. Soothing caresses were planted across the skin, branding him. "Alas, everything turned out to our advantage. We gained more followers and the light side suffered a major loss."

"Not only that, but you cast your first _Patronus_. Congratulations, Tom." Although he said it snottily, he _was_ proud of his Match. And he allowed Voldemort to feel his pride through his Seer. The fingers around his neck tightened.

"Little minx," Voldemort hissed out softly, crimson eyes warming. "You have a few eager guests in the recovery tent. I'd suggest you _hurry_ and see them."

"Hurry?" Harry grinned. "Why is that?"

The Dark Lord leaned down and ran a tongue down the shell of his ear. "I find it rather aggravating sharing you so much."

Harry gave a hum, feeling his arousal heighten. "Well then, I'll hurry back." He left the arms of the Dark Lord, giving the man a meaningful glance over his shoulder. "And do me favor, Tom. Don't push them into the ground. They need rest." Voldemort sneered at the students.

"Perhaps," the Dark Lord turned his heel and went to torture a poor soul he saw fit.

Rolling his eyes upward, Harry swept off toward the recovery tent. He knew who he was going to confront in there; countless of indebted survivors, countless of grateful werewolves and wizards… but only _one_ father. Lucius. Harry's lips thinned as he hesitated at the front of the tent. The man had suffered enough. There was no punishment Harry couldn't think worse than a half a year in Azkaban, reliving his mistakes and wife's death through the dementors.

Before he could enter, the tent flap moved aside, emitting Draco. His taller brother looked down at him, his silver eyes dull. "He's changed." Draco murmured.

"Does it surprise you, Draco?" Harry questioned, raising his eyebrows slightly.

"No," the blonde shook his head and looked off into the distance. "It doesn't surprise me. We've all changed since her death. Since the war."

"We've all grown up." Harry supplied.

Draco scoffed, shrugging his shoulders quickly. "I suppose you could look at it like that." He brushed past Harry but paused a few paces. "She's pregnant, you know. Pansy. She's pregnant with your niece or nephew." Harry remained silent, studying Draco's forlorn face. "Take care of my child, will you? I know you've never asked for a child and you never wanted one. I'm not asking you to raise him or her. Just guide them."

Silver clashed with green. "You aren't going to die." Harry spoke hopefully. "You won't. Don't think like that. You'll be here when your child is born." It was odd, knowing Draco was a father. Knowing _he_ was an uncle.

"Did you See that, Harrison?" Draco seemed peaceful enough. He wasn't throwing tantrums or walking away red in the face. Instead, he faced death ready. Draco smirked at Harry's silence. "I didn't think so."

His brother turned to walk toward the other students his age. Despite their age similarities, Harry knew Draco was far wiser, far older in experience then the rest of them. "No I didn't See you survive," Harry spoke softly at Draco's back. The blonde paused. "But I also didn't See you die. Hold on to that hope, Draco. Survive for your child." Before his brother could respond, Harry ducked inside the tent.

It was a magical extended tent. And rows upon rows of beds sat against the tent's sides, allowing a long aisle down the middle. The beds weren't all full, which was a good sign. Healers ran amongst the patients, easily taking care of the sick and wounded. Harry felt a strong burst of pride in his chest. This was his army. This was Tom and his army… and they were strong and willing.

Heads turned in his direction and Harry made certain his face was crafted emotionlessly. One by one, the patients stood up from their bed. Some of the struggled, but their determined faces held off the help. They all fell to their knees, bowing their heads in respect of Harry.

The sight took Harry aback. Most of the patients were werewolves from Azkaban, but there were a few wizards and vampires within the tent. And all of them were bowing in respect and submission.

Snapping himself out of his foolish daze, he took a couple strides inside the tent and down the aisle. "You may rise and return to your beds," his voice was soft, yet commanding as he watched a few struggle to follow his orders. "I'm sure many of you understand what's happening now. We have declared war on the Ministry, on the 'light' side." Harry sneered the last word, eyeing the werewolves and patients. "They have imprisoned most of you because of your status. Because you are werewolves. Will you stand with a side that discriminates you? That throws you away in prison on whim?"

Countless of werewolves shook their heads, while others bowed their necks, mourning their lost beliefs. "I vow to you, that when we win this war, you will have just as much rights as the next wizard or witch. You will never have to fear being thrown away just because of who you are. We will overpower the light and return your honor." He kept eye contact with many of the werewolves.

He caught sight of Lupin and Sirius. His cousin was sitting beside Lupin's bed, watching Harry with a pleased air about him. "We will serve you willingly, My Lord." Remus spoke up, lowering his chin. "I speak for everyone when I thank you for your dedication, for your willingness to free us."

Murmurs of agreement and gratitude swept across the tent. Harry didn't need to use his Seer to feel such appreciation. It was obvious from their expressions. Harry gave a sharp nod, his eyes landing on his father. "You may continue healing," Harry hinted toward the stunned and motionless Healers. They unfroze, hurrying to do his bidding.

Harry dismissed the patients in favor of approaching Lucius. His father was on the last bed, leaning casually against his headboard. Azkaban had aged his father; it had stripped him of his elegance, his shimmer. Perhaps he would never gain his elegance back, or perhaps it would take time, but it pleased Harry. He was happy to see that, yes, his father had suffered. He had his revenge.

But that revenge was something even Harry wouldn't have wished upon Lucius.

"My Lord Malfoy," a woman's voice whispered hoarsely. Harry hesitated, turning his head to stare at a blonde woman. Her sharp amber eyes told him she was a werewolf and the boy next to her bedside told him she was Matthew Jinkin's mother.

Matthew, the boy with a head full of blonde curls and eyes a bright brown, stared up at Harry- full of admiration and pride. Harry shuddered to think that he was someone's _hero_. Merlin. He had done too many good deeds today… yesterday… his whole bloody life. "Ms. Jinkins," Harry acknowledge.

Her smile warmed him, reminding him painfully of Narcissa. "My son tells me what you did for him. You gave him hope…" Matthew looked abashed at his mother's confession, his cheeks staining red. "I want to thank you for what you did for him and for me and my people. Thank you, My Lord."

He reached over and ruffled Matthew's curls. "You have a wonderful son, Ms. Jinkins. He expressed such an interest and determination in saving you, I wouldn't have dared argued with him." He winked at Matthew, the boy bowing his head.

"Thank you, My Lord." Matthew whispered.

Harry grinned, feeling sick at his… sappy behavior. Although, he may complain about it, he enjoyed it at the same time. It was odd, having people respect him- having people look up to him. His whole life was spent trying to find his place in the world, trying to fit in. But now he realized he was never meant to fit _in_. No, he was meant to lead, to direct- to stand out.

He left the mother and son, approaching his own family on the other side of the aisle.

Lucius watched him approach, no doubt thinking on what to say- as Harry was. He stopped at the foot of the bed, assessing Lucius. "Father," Harry murmured softly in greeting.

"Harrison," Lucius whispered hoarsely, his eerie silver eyes shadowing over with pain. "Please, sit." Harry gracefully moved to the side of his father's bed, sitting down. "How are you feeling?" Lucius questioned, his eyes assessing his son.

How was he feeling? Dizzy, slightly nauseated, and his magic was shocked. Harry would give himself a few days to recuperate before he could cast magic without a wand. "I feel perfectly fine, father. And you?"

Lucius heaved a sigh, looking up at the tent to brace himself. "I'm sorry for what I did. Where we left off the last time we spoke to one another-," he was true. His words were sincere.

Harry reached over and placed his hand on Lucius' cracked and far from perfect hand. "I forgive you father. The past is the past. You suffered enough in the cell of Azkaban; I cannot condemn you any longer."

Lucius' face broke and he took Harry around the shoulders, embracing him tightly. "You have your mother's spirit, son. I will never understand how I could sire such perfection, such purity. I don't deserve another chance with you."

"Perhaps not," Harry slumped in the embrace, allowing himself to feel the arms of a parent around him. "But I am entitled to give you another chance, just because I love you. Just because you are my father." Lucius tightened his hold on him, burying his face in Harry's neck.

"You're all I could think of in my hell. The mistakes I've made- the pain I've caused."

Harry pulled away, seeing the emotional pain Lucius had gone through. Yet, Draco was right. Lucius had changed. There was an edge to his father, a dangerous glint. A glint one would see in a powerful wizard, ready to avenge the ones that had hurt his family. Harry allowed his hand to fall on his father's sunken cheek, feeling the inner anguish. His Seer warmed his father, vanishing most of the pain- most of the damage. It wasn't very difficult. The holes which were caused by Azkaban were filled with lighter emotions, banishing most the shadows.

Lucius' eyes widened, his gaze landing on the Seer mark on Harry's cheek. "The past is the past, father. You have another chance, don't pass it up." Harry stood, catching a glimpse of a dark skinned woman across the tent. Pythia. "Rest," Harry turned back to Lucius. "Sleep without the nightmares, we need you on the battlefield."

As he was leaving, a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. He turned to stare at his father. Lucius had his eyes closed, perhaps hiding the naked emotion behind closed lids. "Thank you, Harrison. Have no doubt that I will wreak havoc on the battlefield."

Harry grinned, feeling the emotions Lucius was trying to hide through his Seer. He squeezed the hand on his wrist, a simple acknowledging gesture, and left.

Lucius didn't deserve any more punishment. Harry's past hatred of his father dulled significantly over the course of his assassin training and the war. Lucius was his last link to Narcissa, to a real parent.

"Took you long enough," Pythia remarked, sitting calmly at the end of the tent. Her legs were crossed delicately and the aura around her screamed of grace and danger. "I'm sure you've come to ask me about the _Inter Universitas_?"

Harry stood stiffly. "How do you See so much?" Jealously curled his stomach. "Why do I See so little?"

Pythia opened her brilliant blue eyes, smiling lightly at Harry. "You are young yet. You need to bond longer with your Seer. It's very common, Harrison, to improve as you grow older. But that is not important right now, what's important is your question. You want to know how to travel between worlds, to the _Inter Universitas._ It's the land between life and death. You want to save your lover."

"I do," Harry whispered. "How do I?"

Pythia smiled, her eyes closing again. "I have never told you of our speculation of the ability to travel between worlds. Seer are very powerful creatures, Harrison, you know as such. There were a few recorded incidents of past Seer traveling between planes. It's a very dangerous road to travel, yet, your desire to succeed will be a helpful ally on your side. Seer are spiritual creatures, we emit spiritual emotions… it would make sense we can transfer our soul into the spiritual form, yes?"

Harry wondered at Pythia. The woman was engaging, her voice causing Harry to hang on to every last word. "But because the Light Lord is standing guard, waiting for your lover's soul to approach the _Inter Universitas_ , it is possible you may lose your soul to him as you fight for your lover. Your body would remain alive on this plane, yet, it would be in a coma state. Your soul would be gone."

"It's a chance I'm willing to take," Harry said surely. "I'll do whatever it takes to save him."

The Zabini goddess frowned, her eyes opening once again. With a commanding air, she stood up, towering over Harry. "You have been a very smart and bright student, Harrison. Just think on this. If Dumbledore succeeds in taking your soul, you will die. Not only that, but do you suspect the Dark Lord to sit by without you? He will go insane without his Match near him. He will destroy everything you've worked so hard for."

"Yes, but wouldn't I do the same without him?" Harry wondered. "He's my Match as well, I would go insane-,"

"No," Pythia interrupted. "You are a Seer. You are able to live without your other half. And the Dark Lord would never be truly dead if you weren't to rescue him. He would be stuck between worlds, his soul imprisoned, unable to escape. Never fully crossing between the land of living and the land of death."

Harry remained silent, thinking of Pythia's words. She was truthful. If Harry decided to save Tom's soul from Dumbledore and failed, Tom would go insane with Harry's death, risking everything in his insanity. But if Harry were to leave Tom there, he would remain trapped. Dumbledore couldn't destroy Tom's soul, because he had several Horcruxes linked on earth. And Harry wouldn't go insane without Tom…

"Still, I find myself unable to let him go." Harry whispered.

"Think on it, Harrison. And when you decide what to do, I'll be near to guide you." Pythia laid her hand on Harry's Seer mark. "Whatever you decide to do, I'll assist you."

"Thank you, Mistress," Harry bowed his head, feeling slight tingles in his mark. "But… how is Dumbledore not dead? How is he between worlds? He's dead, I saw him die… does he have Horcruxes?"

Pythia cocked her head to the side, considering. "No, not exactly Horcruxes. He would never touch something as filthy as a Horcrux. Dumbledore was smart, Harrison. He knew, if he were to die, Voldemort's Horcruxes would be forever in place. Because of that, he uses magic, magic that manipulates memories and fragments for just a small amount of time. You have to destroy the portraits and you have to destroy the memory of Dumbledore in the _Inter Universitas_. Then, and only then, will he finally be gone."

"He never stays dead," Harry hissed, sneering.

Pythia chuckled, running her fingers lovingly through Harry's hair. "Think long and hard about your decision, Harrison." She kissed his forehead, walking proudly out of the tent. Harry watched her go, feeling heavy with the knowledge of what was to come.

He followed her steps out the tent, looking toward the darkening sky. The Death Eaters were mingling about near built fires, eating and speaking amongst each other. Harry watched them interact in the shadows, taking special interest in the way the werewolves seemed confident enough to join with the Death Eaters. There didn't seem to be any prejudice among the groups. They all had one common factor.

They were in war and they were striving to come out on top together. With the same goals in mind.

"What's on your mind, my love?" Arms encircled him from behind, pushing his back into a thin chest.

"We did well," Harry grinned. "Our army is ready."

"I don't think that's on your mind." The hands grew bolder as they pressed Harry into him. "You Saw something didn't you?"

"Of course I did, I'm a Seer, aren't I?" Harry turned in the arms, feeling his chest tighten as he gazed up at Tom. He grabbed the man's face and slammed his lips on the taller man's. Voldemort groaned in the kiss, backing them up into a tent behind them. They never broke the kiss and Harry took the lead and pushed Tom against the wall of the empty training center.

If Voldemort noticed his desperation and uncertainty, he didn't say anything. He just kissed back just as intensely.

Harry allowed the Dark Lord to turn them, his own back meeting the wall rather harshly. He lost himself in the caresses and bites of Tom, closing his eyes in bliss. It was hazy, how they ended up fucking against the wall. Harry could only remember the intensity, the erotic sensation, and the brutal way Tom took him. Yet, even if it was rather brutal and rough, he was gentle and _there_.

His lips never left Harry and his hands grasped him possessively, affectionately.

Harry's legs trembled around Voldemort's waist as they both came, panting in each other's face. "Who's death?" Voldemort breathed in Harry's face, still buried deeply inside his lover. "Whose death did you See? Mine or yours?"

Harry tightened his legs around Tom, his back anchored against the wall. "None."

Voldemort hissed, pushing deeper inside Harry and slamming him against the wall. "Liar, I can see when you lie. If it's your death-," Voldemort broke off rather hoarsely, yet his face gave no emotion away. "We can create a Horcrux for you."

Harry laughed, pushing at Voldemort's chest and disentangling himself from the man. His legs were shaking as he put his weight on the ground. Voldemort held him up, keeping him caged between his chest and the wall. "I thought you'd never offer your help with my Horcrux." Harry gave a shy smile. "I'd be honored to create one with you, My Lord. But I'm far too weak right now to create one. When you destroy Longbottom, I'll create my own."

Spidery fingers grasped his face, lovingly stroking it. "Then sleep and regain your sleep, Harrison. I do not want my consort weak on the battlefield."

Staring into the crimson eyes, Harry knew, without a doubt, he would risk both of them in order to save Tom. "Everything will work out in the end, Tom." He grasped the man's face and peered up at his lover. "That you can believe." He stood on his toes, pressing a gentle kiss to the man's chin. "I'll be waiting in bed for you."

Voldemort reluctantly let him go. Harry adjusted his robes, flashing the man a snarky grin, before exiting the tent. That was… a brilliant fuck. Just what he needed. He had talked with the people he needed to talk with and secured the werewolves on their side. They would fight, he knew. Everything seemed calm and in favor of the dark. All except for Tom's upcoming confrontation with Dumbledore.

But Tom would first need to die. Harry hoped he didn't have to witness the death. It would be painful, seeing his lover fall; doubtless that he had Horcruxes at his disposal. The Dark Lord Voldemort never _fell_. His stomach churned with the ugly picture it would make.

Up ahead, an unlikely visitor sat at the outside of Voldemort and his tent. "Professor?" Harry smirked, staring at Severus Snape. "What are you doing here?" The Deputy Headmaster stood up, previously sitting nonchalantly on the ground.

He brushed his robes, clearing his throat at Harry approached. "I've been waiting for you to return. I've brought news of the Ministry and Order and your last blood replenishment potion." Harry frowned at the steaming goblet in the man's hands.

"My last blood replenishment potion?"

Snape looked mildly annoyed. "Yes, you lost a significant amount of blood on your excursion. I gave you a potion earlier, when you arrived at camp. But you left before I could give you your last dose." Harry took the goblet, grimacing at the smell he knew to be the blood replenishment potion. "Drink it quickly, it goes down easier." Snape watched as Harry drowned the potion. "I'm sure you've heard of your success on the Azkaban breakout?"

"Of course, Professor, I was there." He threw the man a grin.

"Ah, well, the Order is frantic at the large number of casualties the Ministry lost." Harry blinked slowly, feeling his exhaustion catch up to him. His magic sparked, but extinguished a moment later in defeat. "But, they have their hopes high with the presence of the boy-who-lived."

"What?" Harry slurred, feeling his pulse quicken.

"Neville Longbottom, Harrison. He is in safe hands now." The world spun and Harry took a staggering step backwards, falling to the ground.

"Why?" Harry mumbled, trying to stay awake. "Why did you do this? After all I did for you?" The potion… it was tainted with tranquilizers. He tried to stay awake, but the image of Snape kneeling down to pick him up was the last thing he saw.

" _Tom!"_ He screamed, reaching out desperately for his other half.

And then he was unconscious.

Again.


	34. I Can Taste it in Your Tears

** Chapter Thirty Four: I Can Taste it in Your Tears **

Nothingness.

Harry squinted his eyes, feeling the claustrophobia. Something was over his head, cloth perhaps… a black cloth. It surrounded his head and cut off his breathing. Despite the fact he was sitting in an uncomfortable chair, the world was still spinning, still nauseating. His magic was just as shocked as it had been a few hours ago. Well. He assumed it was hours ago. He had no way to tell how long he'd been unconscious because he woke up just a few minutes ago with a bag over his head.

A tight string tied tightly around his neck, keeping the cloth securely around his head. Around him, he was aware of the excited buzz. Voices came out muffled and the presence of angry wizards surrounded him.

Where the bloody hell was he?

A man cleared his throat, successfully silencing the crowd. Harry tensed as two bodies stood on either side of him, placing their hands on his shoulders in a vice-like grip. He swore… when he got out of here, Snape was going to pay. And he was certain, that _if_ he didn't get out alive, Tom would save Snape for last, treasuring the man's screams. But how would Tom know it was Snape?

Harry shut his eyes, trying to focus on Tom, on their connection. It was the first time Harry had done so willingly, Voldemort usually the one to do the contacting. But as he attempted to contact Tom, there was nothing but raw rage that met him. The Dark Lord was far too furious to contact.

"As many of you have learned, we have suffered a great loss yesterday." Rufus Scrimgeour. Harry tensed. He was in the Ministry. The enemy's hands. Bloody Snape. "With our losses, we have lost some very proud and honorable men. We have also, regrettably, lost a few Azkaban prisoners."

A few? More like… a good hundred.

"But like all things, it is darkest before the dawn. We have suffered losses, and we have endured the attacks of the dark. But we have gained our footing. We have become stronger, we have gathered together in this crisis. And with our unity, we have also gained the Dark Lord." Murmurs spread across the gathers and Harry sneered. "This here, is You-Know-Who's right hand man, the second Dark Lord. With this…this wizard in our custody, we believe we have a considerable advantage."

There was a slight pause before the string around his neck loosened harshly and the cloth was pulled from his head. Light assaulted him from the cameras as reporters all scrambled to catch his face. "Harrison Regulus Malfoy, a known follower of the Dark Lord. He is also guilty in the charges in the late Albus Dumbledore's death. His charges are also accountable for Neville Longbottom's kidnapping."

Harry slouched in his chair, brooding at the cameras in his direction. There weren't many people before him, only reporters and a few Ministry officials. But yet, there was _one_ person that caught his eye. Neville Longbottom.

The last time Harry had seen the boy, he had been sitting in his own waste and barely alive. Voldemort and he had agreed on waiting to transfer the Horcrux inside Longbottom back into Tom. That was perhaps a big mistake. Because now; the Gryffindor was sitting with his grandmother and the Weasleys. Staring at him. Merlin… he looked different. No longer was he the fat boy, instead, he was tall and thin- the months as Voldemort's prisoner taking a toll on him. His dark brown hair was shaggy and in his face, covering the patch of absent skin on his forehead.

But that's not what caught Harry's attention. It was the way Longbottom stared at him; so maturely, so wisely, as if he'd grown up many years over his capture. Neville sneered at him, turning away from his stare.

"Where will you keep him, Minister?" A short and plump reporter asked, bringing Harry's attention away from the human Horcrux.

Rufus stood proud near the podium, his image reflecting power and confidence. Just seeing him, Harry knew the man was trying to project an image of hope, of success. This was all a political image. Wizards would see Harry captured and see the Minister's strong stance as indication that the light was no longer suffering. But Harry knew otherwise. The light _couldn't_ be winning.

"Azkaban proved to be an easy obstacle for the dark side. We cannot trust the prison to hold such an ally to the dark. No, we will be keeping Malfoy in a highly secured unit in the Ministry." Rufus nodded his head to answer another reporter's question, but Harry drowned them out.

" _Tom? Merlin, Tom… calm down."_ He tried again, but only got anger in return. Staring into the distance, Harry attempted to reach out to Tom again, this time, using his Seer. He calmed and cooled the link between them, drawing his Match's attention. _"You will do well to calm yourself, My Lord. I don't want you destroying my carefully crafted army."_

Silence. _"Our army."_

" _Our army,"_ Harry agreed in his head. _"I am safe. For now. You can relax."_

" _Who did it?"_ Voldemort hissed out. Harry could practically feel the crimson eyes boring into his. _"Who betrayed you? Do not tell me it was Severus Snape. I_ told _you not to trust him. You trust too easily- you give too many second chances."_

Harry felt his own rage start to rise at the condemning tone Voldemort used on him. _"I give too many second chances? Are you saying I shouldn't give others a chance?"_ Harry hissed back, his jaw tightening. _"Then perhaps I should have never have given_ you _a fourth chance, you bastard."_ He cut the connection, his mind reeling. Voldemort would jump at the chance to rub it in Harry's face that this was his entire fault. The Dark Lord never trusted anyone; he never gave a second chance- perhaps Harry should adapt that strategy.

Voldemort prodded his mind, breaking easily through Harry's weakened barriers. _"You will do well to calm your own temper."_ His voice was controlled, angry. _"You're in the Ministry."_ Voldemort saw through his eyes, taking special interest in his surroundings. _"I will attack-,"_

" _No."_ Harry breathed. _"They want you to attack. They're expecting you to attack. Don't play in their hands."_

The Dark Lord stayed quiet, his mind almost caressing Harry's possessively. _"Then what do you claim we do?"_

Harry blinked, giving the crowd a sneer for good measure. They were all watching him. Like spectators would a crazed beast. _"Stall. My magic is dim; I can barely stand on my own. Allow me to recuperate before you decide to attack. It could be days, it could be a week. In the mean time, I know you're bloody brilliant, Tom. Come up with a way to destroy the Ministry from the inside out. Weaken them before your last blow."_

" _I'm not leaving you in their hands-,"_

" _You need to sacrifice some things in war, Tom."_

The Dark Lord snarled. _"I will_ not _sacrifice my Match."_

Harry sighed. _"Give me some slack, Tom. I will survive this."_ The man remained silent, silently steaming. _"You are far too possessive for your own good, My Lord."_ Harry chuckled in his mind, his lips quirking into a smile. _"I love you…"_ He cut off the connection after that, making sure his shields were up and strong.

Voldemort wouldn't be getting through the shields anytime soon…

Before he knew it, the flashes disappeared behind the cloth. The bag was back over his head and arms gripped his body harshly. His feet barely touched the floor as he was dragged away from the conference room. The wizards carrying him into the elevator dug their fingers into his arms, easily bruising them. "Scum," they leered. "Filthy scum."

Harry hummed softly, his heart racing at the words he had whispered to Tom. 'I love you'. Merlin, he was such a girl. The Dark Lord probably thought as much after he heard Harry utter those three… damned words. They fucked, they made love, they had sex… and after every encounter, Tom always seemed to nuzzle his face and neck- almost in sentimental gesture. Harry had always been tempted to say it then, but he never did. And Tom never did.

They just… knew, without words, that they held each other in high regards. In high self esteem.

Why did Harry have to ruin such an uncomplicated relationship? I love you…

Merlin.

"What did you say, little bastard?" One of the men grunted.

"I said… I can't wait to see what color you bleed." Harry spat through the bag on his head. Bloody bastards.

A hand grasped his head and slammed his forehead against the side of the wall. Harry gave an intake of breath and his body became lax. The men chuckled lowly, the elevator coming to a stop. He remained limp in their hold on either side as they dragged him down the hall. He could feel the temperature drop considerably. Wherever they were taking him, Harry closed his eyes through the cloth, trying to memorize each turn they took.

It seemed as if they were low in the Ministry. And the lower levels weren't always exactly known for its… approachability.

After a left turn and a few more stairs, Harry was let go and thrown to the floor. He landed harshly, his elbow bouncing off awkwardly on the floor. Light assaulted him as the black cloth was pulled from his head. He glared at the two men above him. They were standing at the door to a cell. His cell. But it wasn't like a normal cell. It was a small room, barely large enough to spread out his arms fully. The walls were padded and the floor was hard.

Only a rigid and thin cot sat at the far corner. With it, a silver loo sat in the opposite corner.

It was small and confined. Even with the door open, light spilling in, it was still dark. "Welcome to your new hell, boy." One of the men sneered. He seemed to be the bigger wizard and the dominant one in charge. His grey hair reached his ears and he had a hard set to his face. Both of them wore pristine Ministry robes.

"He seems…" the younger one- the skinny and short wizard- leered at Harry. "He seems to be a pretty boy. You reckon he was just used as a pincushion for the Dark Lord?" Now that they mentioned it… Harry was more than aware of the dried semen over his body. He hadn't gotten a chance to clean himself after his run in with Voldemort in the abandoned training tent.

Instead of looking down and away, Harry sat stiffly on the floor, staring unblinkingly at the two. He memorized every line, every blemish on the two wizards. When he got out of here… "I wouldn't doubt it, Johnston." The grey haired man sneered down at Harry. "He didn't put up much a fight down here."

"Simply because I'm waiting for your backs to turn," Harry whispered, giving them a sadistic smile.

He was much too slow for the strike across his face. His body was knocked back to the ground and his face stung. An incredible force pushed through his mind barriers and Voldemort was on the forefront of his mind. Harry struggled to push the man back, out of his mind, but another heavy fist struck his face. And then a boot hit his chin, causing him to give a quiet whimper at the 'crack'.

He had his assassin skills and he could escape them easily. But what good would that do? It was a large Ministry full of wizards who could use magic against his magicless form. The more he fought back, the more trouble he would attract. All he wanted was to recuperate. But Voldemort had other plans…

Voldemort controlled. He reared his head up, staring at the two wizards across from him. Harry felt violent rage well up inside him and knew it was Tom's. "Bloody freak," the grey man sneered.

He lunged at Harry again. Harry no longer had control of his own body. He met the man halfway, using his fingers and pressing them into the man's eyes. Under his nails, he felt the eyes puncture. And with his mouth, he chomped down on the hand about to strike him. Skin piled up at the back of his teeth as he racked his teeth across the hand. Blood, everywhere, filled his mouth and dripped down his chin.

He was disgusted. Never had he used such gruesome force before. With his own _mouth._ Apparently Voldemort enjoyed it, for he grew creative with the eyes. The eyeballs of his enemy seemed to bulge out, on the verge of coming out of the sockets. But before Voldemort could continue, Johnston, the other guard, came over and welted him across the face.

Successfully knocking Harry unconscious.

** \- Four days later- **

The weather seemed to dampen the mood across Britain. School was out and the summer heat drew crowds in Muggle London and the alleyways of Diagon Alley. But over the course of the week, the summer heat grew unbearable and the humidity seemed to heighten. The sun was always covered with haze, whether it was thin enough to still spot the bright orb, or heavy enough to cast dark shadows across the land.

In a small graffiti filled alleyway, a shadowed figure held the _Prophet_. His eyes drank in the picture of Harrison Malfoy, known supporter of the Dark Lord Voldemort. He didn't bother to read the article, his gaze far too obsessed with the heavenly figure on the front page. Such beauty… such _strength…_

Giving a deep intake of air, the figure rolled the _Prophet_ up and placed it under his arm. His sights were set on the shabby red telephone booth across from him. He needed to attend business. The war was approaching quickly and the Dark Lord was brewing. Voldemort, although discouraged that his right hand man was imprisoned, wouldn't stop forging forward. The weather could even sense the approaching war.

The Dark Lord had plans up his sleeve, he wouldn't doubt it. And the Ministry was far too conceited with the capture of Harrison Malfoy to think of the causes of their actions. They angered a powerful and dark wizard… shouldn't they be cowering behind their Light Lord's portraits?

Portraits… such an…amusing thing.

He smirked as he headed toward the place that housed the last portrait of the famous Light Lord.

Sometimes, unlikely allies were all you needed in war.

Chuckling, he picked up the receiver of the phone.

** -SSC- **

"Do you have your army ready?" Voldemort purred as he gazed at the cloaked assassin across from him. "I hope, for your sake, you have them ready."

The vampire's eye flashed as he stared just as levelly across at the Dark Lord. "Worry about your own army, My _Lord_." Voldemort gave a small chuckle, enjoying the rise he got out of the assassin. "We have been ready long before you got your act together."

Knowing the vampire was just trying to get even, Voldemort dismissed him easily. He brushed past the assassin and outside the tent. What met his gaze was just as pleasing. Clad men and women lined up in rows and columns, standing straight and prepared. Wizards and even the werewolves wore black robes. While the wizards wore Death Eater masks, the werewolves chose to reveal their faces- their canines a valuable defense.

The vampires wore black as well- only their faces were covered with head scarves, save their cold eyes.

Crimson eyes swept around the army, feeling his lip lift. They were ready. They were stronger than ever before. It was _his_ army. Here to please and follow his orders.

No.

He frowned lightly. This wasn't just his army… it was Harrison's as well.

Mentally, touched his Match's mind, only to feel it closed off. As it had been ever since he'd taken over his consort's body that day in the cell. He would have been worried that he couldn't reach Harrison's mind, but he wasn't. Because he knew, that the more successful Harrison was of blocking him out, the more powerful the boy was becoming. He was slowly gathering his magic, waiting for Voldemort's lead.

"Today, some of you will fight to the death. All of you will fight for our cause." He paused, sneering lightly. "I am not a motivation speaker, nor do I find it even worthwhile. Lord Malfoy is not here, and you will not be getting a speech." It was the brat's job to speak sugary words to the army. Not his. "Fight hard or displease me." Voldemort warned softly, yet his voice carried.

The students, whom had been training hard since the Azkaban breakout, remained solid in their stance. He no longer saw their hesitation of approaching a battle.

Rain started to fall, staining their cloaks and warning them of the upcoming battle. Voldemort turned toward the first group of wizards, a selected few who were dressed in normal wizarding clothing. "You may begin."

The twelve wizards bowed their heads, not helping the grins upon their faces. Voldemort watched them apparate away, giving his own grin.

When they attacked and broke Harrison out, his Match would be a wild animal unleashed, ready for the taste of revenge. Voldemort was looking forward to seeing such an arousing sight.

The Ministry wouldn't know what hit them.

** -SSC- **

Draco sighed impatiently as he ran his fingers through his fake goatee. Ahead of him, he watched the Ministry workers crowd together through the Atrium. They looked like mindless wizards and witches- completely oblivious to the twelve Death Eaters already on their turf. It was pathetically easy to get past. Draco wondered why there hadn't been attacks on the Ministry sooner.

Well, obviously because it was the house of the army. There would be the whole army here… and chances were rather low of succeeding for the dark side. But Draco had more than enough faith that the Dark Lord was brilliantly aware of _everything_.

A few days ago, Draco was called into the Dark Lord's private tent. He had glimpsed at the destroyed furniture, wondering if the man had thrown a fit because of Harrison's disappearance. Smartly, he had stayed quiet and watched in wonder as the handsome Dark Lord leaned over the maps of the Ministry. Rarely did the man ever wear his hood down, but that day, it had been lowered, revealing the darkly aristocratic features of the man. Draco had been struck at how brilliantly handsome the man was, with his long black hair braided, and sharp features.

Seeing the man, Draco didn't feel any jealousy toward his older twin. Because just then, Draco knew they balanced each other out beautifully. They were created for each other.

The Dark Lord wasn't just a beautiful face, though. He was intimidating. And Draco had trouble keeping himself from shaking in the man's presence… at least without Harrison nearby. Everyone knew the man was in a sour mood since his lover was kidnapped. And everyone knew they could get away with much more when Harrison was near the Dark Lord.

But the Dark Lord didn't spare Draco another look, for he started to give him orders. The man was bloody brilliant. Draco had been in awe when he listened to the plan to take over the Ministry. It was a carefully thought out plan and it was a stealthy start- yet ended with a large blow.

He gave a sigh, staring out at the crowds of wizards. In his fingers, he placed with the golden triangle. It was small, perhaps the size of his palm. It thrummed with the Dark Lord's magic, raising the hair on his arms. It was powerful dark magic and Draco was more than happy he was on the right side of the war.

The small golden triangle would only work for a few minutes, but those few minutes were a lifetime for the dark side. There was a Death Eater on each level of the Ministry and each of them had a golden triangle in their possession. When planted on the wall or on the floor, they would activate it. And as soon as all ten triangles were activated and ready to go, the Ministry would shut down. It would be a dark world of non magic. Nothing magical would work, well, save for those that were linked to the triangles. The magic inside the triangles were linked especially to the dark mark. And because of that, only Death Eaters would be able to cast magic within those few moments of Ministry shut down.

Draco subconsciously felt his dark mark flare and knew the Dark Lord was close, approaching with his army. The vampires wouldn't need magic to attack, either did the werewolves.

Hell rain scorn upon those that touched the Dark Lord's lover. They would all feel his anger today. Draco was certain of it. Today would either declare the dark the victor or the light. And for the life of him, he would fight to the death in order for the dark to succeed.

Alarms sounded throughout the Ministry, a signal to the Ministry visitors and workers that there was an intruder inside the Ministry. Two intruders to be exact. A Lucius Malfoy and an Evan Rosier. Both of the two Death Eaters started on opposite floors and were currently on their way to floor number eight. Exactly the floor where the Dark Lord would enter with his army. And the exact floor Draco was currently on.

He got a front row seat. Most of the light wizards would rush to where they knew the exits were, only to find the exits closed off. Or, the light army would send some of its members after Lucius Malfoy and Evan Rosier- who were luring them all on floor number eight for a reason.

But the alarm wasn't just a signal for the Ministry workers, no; it was a signal to begin their task.

Nonchalantly, he placed the triangle under the seat he was sitting on.

** -SSC- **

Harry breathed deeply, feeling his pulse quicken. How many days? It felt like weeks… but he knew, in reality, it was only a few days. A couple days…

He gave a breathless scream as he clutched his hair. He was going insane. The dark, so dark… and his magic was itching to come out. It hadn't been used for awhile and it was angry with Harry. Gone was his magical fatigue, instead, he could feel it brimming. It needed to be used. But his cell would detect magic and he didn't want to give himself away just yet. He was _waiting_ for Tom to make his first move.

He had felt the man touch his mind on occasion, and each time, he could feel Voldemort's own power strengthen. That clearly meant that the man was saving his energy, gathering his magic for something big. And that's why Harry decided to sit back and remain in the dark, small cell. Tom knew what he was doing and Harry wouldn't argue with it.

As he gripped his hair in exasperation, he heard the shrilling sound of an alarm go off.

Breathing slowly and deeply, he calmly moved his fingers from his hair. With a tight smile, he raised his head and stared at the cell door.

Tom had come.

Before he could open the door himself, it opened on its own. Harry blinked at the onslaught of light, squinting toward the silhouette outlining his vision. "You look like hell." An unrecognizable voice stated dryly. "Like a caged animal, my sweet." My sweet… Harry sneered, standing up.

The alarm grew fiercer, louder. He approached the silhouette and stopped still as he looked into the face of Neville Longbottom. But it wasn't Neville, not really. His face was twisted into a cold smirk and his crimson eyes stared at Harry with a possessive air. "Hello, love," Tom Riddle welcomed, reaching out to grab a slightly taken aback Harry around the collar.

Harry allowed himself to be lured toward the lips. What did it matter? It was Tom…

He allowed Riddle to kiss him deeply, enjoying the slight thrill in his chest at kissing Voldemort's younger half, his Horcrux. Riddle pulled back with a pleased look about him as he gazed wantonly down at Harry. "While you were sitting on your lazy arse, I had a little fun."

"It was you all this time," Harry's voice was raspy. "At the Ministry conference, that was you in Neville's body."

"It's been me for awhile now, long before Snape came and took me away. Why not lay low and act like Longbottom? It got me in places it could _never_ get you." Crimson eyes traced his face. "Neville is still alive, but barely. I can easily overpower him now."

Harry smirked, curling his fingers around Riddle's collar. "And just what were you doing with your new face?"

Dark eyebrows rose and his hands dropped on Harry's waist. "Wouldn't you like to know," Riddle hissed out huskily. "Perhaps… for a price, I can tell you." He danced Harry around and pushed him against the wall outside the cell. His arousal was clear and his crimson eyes burned fiercely.

From the corner of his eye, Harry was slightly disappointed to see the two guards, who have given him hell the past few days- dead. Red lights flashed around them, blending eerily into Riddle's eyes. "Only you would think of doing something like that at a time like this. Perhaps later, if the Dark Lord permits it." Which he wouldn't, Harry knew.

He tried to push past Riddle, but the Horcrux took hold of Harry's waist once again and pushed him harder against the wall. "You know as well as _I_ that the Dark Lord wouldn't share. Even with himself." Hands gripped him harder and his eyes burned. "I _want_ you now."

"Then we can do it in secret, without him knowing. But now is not the time-,"

Cool hands gripped his face. "You lie." The Horcrux hissed.

Before Harry could respond, his eyes lifted over Riddle's shoulder and toward the hall. Furrowing his brow, he watched as the lights seemed to snap off one by one. And before he knew it, Riddle and he were standing in the pitch dark, everything eerily silent. Not even the alarms were screaming. There seemed to be… a loss of something in the atmosphere… a heavy feeling.

And Harry realized that the magic was absent.

Panicking, Harry felt his own magic and breathed easier when he realized it was still thrumming eagerly. Then… what….

Eyes widening, he saw a faint glow in the dark. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a smiling Mime. Something Harry hadn't seen for a long while. Eyes adjusting to the dark, Harry gave a breathless gasp as he watched the Mime rear back his white gloved hand and fling a heavy object toward Riddle's turned back.

"Watch out," Harry growled, throwing Riddle and himself to the ground. Just seconds after, a heavy dagger imbedded itself into the wall they just vacated.


	35. You Think it's Funny

** Chapter Thirty Five: You Think it's Funny **

"It's not working," a wizard cried as he patted his palm against the fireplace. Around him, many Ministry workers were in a frenzy, screaming and talking loudly amongst each other. Their useless wands were in their trembling hands, patting against their legs, hoping to ignite them once again. But it was useless.

Still sitting upon the bench, Draco bowed his head, chuckling lowly. This made his day… no…it made his _life_. Pathetic wizards, they were all useless. The Atrium was no longer shimmering with raw magic; instead, it was dull- lifeless and dark. Candles were lit upon the chandeliers and walls, but it was still dark enough to strike fear in the light wizards. The Dark Lord would arrive in a moment…

Although Draco _was_ having fun listening to their fears and speculations. Most of them were right as they assumed it was You-Know-Who… but others wouldn't believe it. After all, how could the Dark Lord possibly get through the Ministry? It was _impossible_.

By now, the eighth level was so crowded; people had trouble standing without brushing their shoulders against a neighboring wizard. It was all coming along wonderfully. Draco noticed there weren't any Unspeakables and Aurors as of yet, but the magic had just shut down- it would be awhile before they made it down to level eight.

Just then, an eerie sound filled the Atrium. It was a horrible creaking sound and it took the fools a long while to pinpoint where the sound was originating from. All eyes turned toward the descending elevator and horrible screams filled the area as the door opened to reveal masked Death Eaters. Draco stood up, his glamour washing away. It was time to claim their rightful spot in the wizarding world.

The unoccupied fireplaces came to life and ejected Death Eaters around the Atrium. The Ministry workers herded together in the middle of the hall, becoming lost sheep in a pack of wolves.

"This is a Ministry take over," One of the Death Eaters shouted, holding his wand out and a box in the other. "For those of you who want survive, I suggest you surrender your wands over." There were many vulnerable wizards through the Atrium who would follow whomever was in charge, whomever had the most power. And they would do so out of fear and reverence. The Dark Lord knew as such and decided to spare the wizards who were willingly smart enough to surrender. After all, they couldn't slaughter _every_ light wizard.

Unfortunately.

Draco knew this idea was mostly Harrison's. Knowing his twin, his brother probably was hell bent on the Dark Lord, warning him of the repercussions of killing every light wizard in their path.

The sheep all hurried to surrender their wands, placing them in the box being passed around. So trustworthy… so pathetic.

Once the wands touched the box, they disappeared. No one but the Dark Lord knew where they were headed and he had a complex plan in mind when he decided to grant their wands back. Draco hadn't heard of the plan, yet he had an idea that the Dark Lord would register their wands himself, keeping tabs on each and every one of them. Well, perhaps not himself, but his followers would be assigned certain tasks in their _new_ Ministry.

Draco kept his wand pointed at a few hesitating wizards. They looked back at him and then toward his pointing wand. Palling, they surrendered their wands.

Draco walked around the Atrium, frowning when he realized the Aurors and the Unspeakables still weren't present… "Odd," he whispered toward the Death Eater he knew to be Blaise Zabini. "Why aren't the Aurors or Unspeakables here? Defending their Ministry?" As soon as he spoke this, he felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. He didn't show any outward fear, but inside, he felt uncertain.

Blaise' dark eyes stared at his surroundings. A senior Death Eater set up the fireplace and a brilliant green fire erupted inside. He shooed the wandless wizards and witches toward the fireplace. Many of them believed they were walking to their death and chose to hold hands with a neighboring light wizard as they ran in the flames, disappearing from sight. Little did they know, they weren't going to _die._ It was only a temporary location the Dark Lord set up for those that had surrendered.

They were too bloody easy on them.

"Perhaps they knew," Zabini wondered.

"You mean a spy?" Not another Severus. Draco hadn't gotten over the fact that his godfather had been the one to kidnap his brother.

"Maybe." Zabini continued. "Or they knew we were going to attack. Rufus Scrimgeour isn't known for his stupidity. He _knew_ what was going to happen if he gained custody of Harrison. He angered the most powerful Dark Lord of the century. Of course the Dark Lord would attack."

It made enough sense. "So they were ready for us." Draco agreed out loud, watching as most the surrendered Ministry workers left through the prearranged fireplace. The Death Eaters seemed to grow in numbers as well and were mocking and taunting the light wizards, hurrying them out of the Ministry and into the green fire. "So then why are they allowing us to herd away potential fighters?"

"Because they want them to be out of harms way," a voice interrupted. Both he and Zabini turned to look at another Death Eater. This one had cold silver eyes and long blonde hair falling from his hood. "No doubt they have their own plan up their sleeves. Something does not feel right."

A trap.

It was what Lucius was trying to say without actually _saying_ it.

And then the air cooled considerably as a powerful figure emerged from the descending elevator. All heads turned toward the cloaked Dark Lord emerging. With him, he was surrounded by vampires, werewolves, and Death Eaters alike. He all but glided across the glossy wood floor, eyeing the proceedings. By now, there were no longer surrendering wizards and witches, just an Atrium full of dark wizards, suspicious of the lack of fight.

"What do you mean he isn't there?" Voldemort snarled, lifting a Death Eater up by the collar of his robes. The Death Eater spluttered, his legs dangling in mid-air.

They all knew Harrison Malfoy was not in the cell he was assigned.

By now, the Ministry's magical lights were flickering on and off, signaling the triangles were wearing off. And they hadn't even encountered one Auror or Unspeakable. It wasn't going as planned. And Draco and the others could sense the Dark Lord's displeasure.

"You showed up." Wands were immediately pointed toward the form of Rufus Scrimgeour and the stirring shadows of an army behind him. "We have all been waiting."

Behind him, the white faces of the Mimes appeared, smiling across at the dark wizards. Near him, Rufus also had the Aurors, Unspeakables, _and_ the Order.

They _had_ been ready and waiting. But the dark was just as ready.

The magic was still out and it was time to act _now._

But the floor trembled violently.

And out of the shadows, behind Rufus' smug face, came an opposing enemy the dark wizards weren't ready for.

The Giants.

There were a dozen of them. All of them were at least twenty feet tall, clutching a weapon of choice. Draco cursed under his breath, feeling his pulse race. The Giants' heads almost hit the high ceiling… and they were _following_ the light.

He gripped his wand and glanced at the Dark Lord. The man showed no expression, nothing but a cold smirk. Looking back toward their opponents, Draco eyed the large glass windows. They were a few stories high and very plentiful… maybe if he could…

But his plan was crushed as he watched a figure approach the windows from the other side of the windows. It appeared to be a wizard running toward the glass windows that overlooked the Atrium. Draco widened his eyes as he watched the figure jump through the glass, breaking through dramatically.

A loud shattering sound erupted through the Atrium and glass rained down on the light army.

Looking closer, Draco knew it was Harrison. Another figured followed his brother through the shattered glass, jumping down the forty foot drop. And a loud laugh rang through the raining glass, a laugh Draco knew right away as his twin's. It was a clear laugh, almost an insane laugh. Draco watched speechless as Harrison seemed overjoyed at his jump. The small wizard seemed to be content, allowing his body to fall through space.

Mimes vacated the level his brother just jumped from. Their painted faces watching Harrison fall. And rather suddenly, they jumped after him.

It was a waterfall full of Mimes and wizards as they plummeted toward the ground of the Atrium. Draco tensed, wondering if his brother was on a suicide mission. How would he stop? Would he stop? Merlin…

But Harrison still laughed, his body spread out like a flying eagle. Draco stood senseless as he watched his brother wave his arms in the air- sending a powerful gust of magic across the Atrium.

And with that gesture, the floor seemed to explode under the light army- the Giants in specific. They roared, their bodies falling down to the levels of the Ministry below. And Harrison followed.

But not all the light wizards fell. And the Dark Lord, seemingly the only one who hadn't stood stupidly at Harrison's act, struck.

And he struck hard.

A large handful of light wizards fell at his wand.

** \- A few minutes earlier… - **

Harry rolled effortlessly up from the floor and stared at the Mime rushing toward them. It was dark, but Master Keiran taught him well. He dodged another thrown dagger and charged full force at the Mime. Swiping his foot, he knocked the Mime backwards and grabbed the flying arm. The Mime was a dead corpse, literally, his mind connected to Octavio's, but Harry was sure he could still bring it down.

Taking the wrist, Harry twisted it the opposite way, hearing the rather hollow crack. Falling heavily to the floor, the Mime's painted face smiled up at Harry, no sign of pain. They couldn't feel pain. They were puppets.

His foot slammed down upon the Mime, smashing the nose into the brain.

Riddle came up behind him and slashed his wand. Only a bit of magic came out, but it was enough to cut the head off the torso. The Mime laid still. Harry turned to look at the Horcrux and found Riddle staring down at his wand with a sneer upon his lips. "It didn't feel… right."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, relieved that the Horcrux finally _dropped_ the issue of sexual favors. "Your wand?"

"My magic, it feels nonexistent, but…" Harry's lips thinned at the confused expression on Riddle's face.

"The whole Ministry lost its magic. Yet it's odd I still have my magic with me, and you. Tell me, what do we have in common?" Harry prodded.

Crimson eyes looked up at him. "Me."

Harry gave a tight nod, just _knowing_ Voldemort was to blame for the lack of magic in the Ministry. He felt a brief sting of pride as he trotted out of the room that housed his hell. He didn't want to use his wandless magic until he absolutely needed to. He had a feeling Voldemort brought Harry's wand with him. After all, Harry had left it by the bedside table before he was kidnapped. "Where are you going?" Riddle managed to get out, jogging after Harry.

"Toward the Atrium, of course. That's where all the excitement is."

"No," Riddle spoke softly, stopping Harry in his tracks. "I came here for a reason. A reason I'm sure you'd like to see for yourself." Harry stopped and stared as Riddle turned his back calmly and climbed up the stairs.

The bloody arrogant….

Harry breathed, hissing through his teeth. Nevertheless, his curiosity was piqued. Throwing a look around the empty Ministry level for any more Mimes, he followed at Riddle's heels. "Where are you going?"

"Correction," Riddle drawled. "Where are _we_ going." Harry refused to comment toward the conceited bastard. "I cannot ruin the surprise." Harry glared at the back of Riddle's neck.

"And how do I know you aren't luring me to my death? Someone once said I was too trusting."

"You are." Riddle agreed, climbing up another flight of stairs. "And I'm sure I was the one to tell you that." The Horcrux paused in his stairs and turned around to eye Harry. "I want to fuck you into the mattress. You should know I wouldn't kill my Match."

"And you should know I don't _submit_ that easily in bed, you bastard." He growled, pushing past Riddle. He was _no_ whore.

The chuckle Riddle gave sent bumps down Harry's arms. "That's not what _I_ saw through _his_ eyes as he was nailing you into his mattress. And it was a delicious sight, mind you, love." Harry's eyes flashed, but he calmly ignored the taunt. Instead, he continued to climb. Riddle chuckled again at the lack of reaction. "Delicious."

"You know," Harry started off. "I wish you'd turn back to Longbottom."

"It's a good thing I don't. I wouldn't be able to do the things I have for _your_ cause."

"Our cause." Harry paused. "Well, the Dark Lord's and my cause."

Riddle branched off from Harry without a word, expecting the smaller to follow. They wandered down a long hallway, a long _dark_ hallway. At the end of the hall, Harry saw the glass windows looking out to the Atrium. In the distance, he could see his army in the entry way. His pulse quickened and he longed to be out there with them.

" _Where are you?"_ A voice cracked thunderously through his head. _"You little bastard if you-,"_

Harry flinched at the commanding voice of the Dark Lord. Briefly, he wondered how he had gotten himself into this mess. He had a demanding lover who refused to be disrespected and ignored and he was also following a younger and arrogant version of his lover's Horcrux. Merlin, he would need a break from Tom after this…

" _I'm here… I can see the army from my position. I'll be down in a moment."_ Harry reassured the raging Dark Lord.

"Here," Riddle stopped in front of a closed steel door. Longbottom's rather stubby fingers pulled out a decent sized coin-like object. He swiped it through the small slot on the side of the door and it opened. He held up the coin again, grinning at Harry. That grin didn't belong on Longbottom's face… "An Order coin. Kind of like the dark mark in a way." The tone was sardonic, amused.

Riddle led him through the empty room. It was a strange room with now furniture, not windows, nothing but a portrait on the other side of the room. Harry stopped dead in his tracks as he stared face to face with the object _inside_ the portrait. "Dumbledore!" Harry growled, eyes flashing dangerously.

The old fool seemed to be waiting in his frame as he linked his fingers together. His eyes were saddened as he stared at Riddle/Longbottom. "Why did I get the feeling it was you all this time? Controlling his actions…" Dumbledore spoke gravely as if he were concerned for Voldemort's Horcrux.

Riddle leered at the old man and dug in his pocket once again. "Look, love, all for you." He held up miniature portraits in the palm of his hand. "This is the last one." The Horcrux held his palm toward Harry, revealing the charmed portraits.

Harry stared in wonder at Riddle. With a light laugh, he grabbed the Horcrux around the collar and kissed him sloppily. Riddle purred in the kiss. "You bastard," Harry pulled away, grinning. "You sneaky bastard."

Riddle shrugged. "Snape and I came up with this plan."

Harry faltered slightly. "Snape?"

"Hmm," Riddle hummed smugly, eyeing Harry in self-satisfaction, as if it were his _goal_ to stump and confuse Harry. "He never betrayed you. He was only listening to sense. I could have never gotten all of the fool's portraits if it wasn't for him."

"Then why did he bring me here? Into the enemy's hands?"

"Because he knew of the attack coming to you." Riddle stated as if it was common sense. "The Ministry was going to strike when you were down. And because you were weak with magical exhaustion, and your army was weak, you wouldn't have survived. The dark would have suffered that day. So… naturally, Snape kidnapped you in order for you to recover. And in turn, your army recovered and grew stronger. He kidnapped me because he's a brilliant Legilimens. He saw right through my act. And he _assisted_ me with the locations of Dumbledore's portraits."

Harry breathed in, thinking of Snape. The man was stealthy and sneaky. He did things that he knew was right, whether it was accepted or approved by his Lord. It wasn't the best trait to have, especially when he was following two Lords who _expected_ respect and loyalty. He knew Voldemort wouldn't give Snape a second chance, no matter the situation. He would die by the Dark Lord's hand today… Harry was sure of it. And he already pleaded with Voldemort to spare Snape's life before. It was not his place to do so again.

" _The light army has brought their secret weapon. Giants."_ Voldemort spoke in his head calmly, as if nothing were wrong. Harry debated mentally with himself on a plan. He was a Seer… and he hadn't encountered Giants before. Perhaps… _"Don't even think about it."_

" _Ah, we all have to sacrifice some things in war, Tom."_ Harry repeated the phrase again, knowing that the Dark Lord didn't want to sacrifice anything but his army. He turned toward the portrait. "We have to go to the Atrium, quickly."

"You will not win this." Dumbledore stated rather matter-of-factly. "You will not." And as much as Harry hated himself for it, he believed the old fool.

Harry motioned for Riddle to shrink the portrait. The Horcrux did so, ignoring the Headmaster's pleas for 'Neville' to overcome his hold. "Come now." Harry took a hold of Riddle's sleeve and pulled him out of the vacant room. And to his immediate left, he saw a group of Mimes charge their way toward them.

Grinning, Harry looked to his right, seeing the glass windows leading out to the Atrium. "Follow me. And remember, trust me," Harry whispered, the lights flickering in the hallway. On and off again, he could feel the magic thrum back to life within the Ministry. It was only a matter of minutes before the light wizards gained their powers again. With the Giants. With the Mimes. With assassins.

"What?" Riddle cried as he watched Harry charge toward the glass windows. "You're insane!"

" _You're insane! You bloody idiot. You jump through that glass and I'll-,"_

Harry gave a high pitched laugh as he jumped through the glass, shattering the entire face plate of the windows. Sharp shards rained down on his enemies. Across the Atrium, he spotted his army. The air rushing past him felt exhilarating. For a moment, he allowed his eyes to close at the feeling of freefall. Behind him, he was conscious of Riddle hesitating just briefly before jumping down with him. Knowing he should probably snap out of his daze, he gave another laugh.

The Giants were all standing together, an easy target.

" _Give me my wand when you get a chance, will you?"_ Harry contacted Voldemort. With a calming breath, Harry reined in his magic and focused it on the floor beneath the Giants. The wood floor seemed to vanish, throwing all the Giants to the level below. Harry tried to make eye contact with Voldemort before plummeting to the level below, but he was going far too quickly.

" _Minx…"_

Harry laughed again, his voice carrying through the silent Ministry. With his magic, he slowed his fall, along with Riddle behind him.

The Giants were grunting, reaching toward a descending Harry. "Now, now." Harry landed heavily on his feet, narrowing his eyes toward the distressed Giants. They grabbed for Riddle and the falling Mimes. It _was_ rather amusing to watch falling Mimes. And he didn't stop the Giants from reaching out to squish them with their fists. Giants were violent and rather dimwitted. They seemed as if they didn't know their enemy from their ally.

"Who is the Gurg?" Harry shouted, standing on the dais. The Gurg was the leader of the Giants. Supposedly known for his malicious behavior and superiority.

"Are you _insane_?" Riddle snapped, grabbing the back of Harry's robes and pulling him back. "They'll kill us."

But it was too late. The twelve Giants all whirled around, their eyes blinking down at Harry. Their lips turned up and their nostrils flared, sensing the air around him. "The Gurg?" Harry asked again, pushing Riddle aside and standing tall. "I'd like to speak to the Gurg."

Harry's Seer thrummed, pulsating and calming. Growls came from their chests as they stepped aside to reveal the tallest and strongest looking Giant. His dark eyes zeroed in on Harry. "I am Gurg." The voice rumbled. "Golgomath."

Pursing his lips, Harry raised his arms in the air, a gesture of surrender when he noticed the other Giants becoming agitated by the lack of fighting. "You are on the wrong side, Golgomath. Why serve the very same people who've killed your people years before? It's because of _them_ that your numbers are so small."

The large giant shook the floor as he stumbled over to Harry. Behind him, Riddle stiffened, pressing his chest into Harry's back. Golgomath blinked, feeling the calming waves from Harry. "Seer?" Golgomath spoke, large eyebrows frowning. _"Seer?"_ The voice grew stronger and Harry stumbled back when his Seer was pushed rather harshly away from the Gurg. Instead of calming, a violent rage erupted. And with the anger, the Giant brought back his hand, ready to strike.

Riddle took his shoulders, pulling him away from the swiping hand. The two stumbled down the dais, and Harry remained taken aback at the violent action. Weren't all magical creatures supposed to be drawn by Seer?

"Harrison," Riddle yelled, pulling at him again. Harry was a rag doll in his arms, listening to the Giants as they howled after them. "Snap _out_ of it." He was pulling Harry toward the stairs. "We need to do something…" Riddle paused as he turned back around toward the approaching Giants.

With a heavy heart, Harry reached out toward the torn open ceiling and blocked it magically. He also placed a magical barrier on the walls and the ground. "What are you doing?" Riddle breathed, watching the Giants as they lunged toward them.

"Something I don't want to do." Swallowing thickly, Harry snapped his fingers, easily starting a fire inside the barrier. Merlin, he didn't want to do it. They were magical creatures… he felt somewhat responsible for them. Yet, here he was, burning them to death.

Inside his shielded area, the Giants tried to stomp away the fire, burning the bottom of their feet. When they realized they couldn't destroy the fire, they attempted to break their way through the floors, through the walls, through the ceiling, anything… but Harry's magic stayed strong. He was killing them, imprisoning them…

"Look at me," Riddle said harshly. His fingers grabbed Harry's jaw, turning him away from the sight. "The Ministry turned them against you. They knew you were a Seer and they told the Giants as such. They probably made up some lie to get the Giants not to trust you. This is for the best. You couldn't have done anything better." Crimson eyes searched Harry's forlorn ones. "Please tell me you aren't that torn up over this. You are the _Dark Lord's_ Match for bloody sake."

"No," Harry turned a deaf ear to the Giant's screams. "You're right," he breathed deeply, pushing past the Horcrux. "We need to join the rest of the army." And he shouldn't feel guilty over what he'd done. The dark would have suffered greatly if Harry would have allowed them to live. And he didn't have enough time to try to convince them of joining the dark.

By now, as they hurried up the stairs toward the eighth floor, the magic was back in the Ministry. Lights glared and magic hummed throughout the underground building. Members from his army were on their way down the stairs, more likely coming to aid him with the Giants. "They're taken care of," Harry breathed, watching as they stopped in their tracks, wand in hand. "Let's go take care of the rest, shall we?"

From the top of the stairs, on the eighth level, he stood on a raised platform, out looking the battle. Everyone was engaged in the fight, all of them fighting with all they had in them. He knew then, that this would be the last battle- this battle would hail the victor…

His eyes caught sight of a shadowy figure following Sirius Black. It appeared to be Regulus, his presence not noted by his brother. He seemed to be a protective shadow, slicing the opposing wizards in vital places with the dagger if they even _looked_ at Sirius. It was oddly heartwarming to see Regulus take such a protective role of his brother.

Before he could join, his attention narrowed in on another figure. This figure seemed hesitant to join the battle, yet his people were fighting for him. Lord Octavio. Yet, he looked… so very different. His black hair fell in his pale blue eyes. No face paint, not insanity. Octavio gave a grim bow toward Harry, his mouth tense at the corners. It was a bow a respectful and honorable enemy would do before a duel. Yet the Death Demon didn't look too excited to be fighting.

Octavio swallowed heavily before putting on a smile, his usual, insane, smile.

"Ready to engage?" Riddle whispered huskily behind him. "So much death… so much fun…"

"You're pathetic," Harry commented, catching the crimson eyes of his lover. His _true_ lover. Lord Voldemort wiped his bloody hand on his robes, eyeing Harry with a neutral air around him. No words, no expression was needed between the two. It was just _there._

Smirking, Harry felt his pulse quicken as he spread out his magic.

It was time to create the havoc he had craved for so long.


	36. Only You are the Life Among the Dead

** Chapter Thirty Six: Only You are the Life Among the Dead **

Bodies littered the floor, blood soaked puddles stained the ground… it was a gruesome and beautiful sight. Voldemort stepped over his fallen opponents with an air of superiority. His attention was on his enemies, yet his eyes seemed to unconsciously slide toward his Match. Harrison… such beauty, such determination. It was a highly arousing sight.

The boy's face was set, his green eyes bright and burning. He looked slightly insane, with his hair all riled up from the four days in the holding cell. It was revenge and drive that forced Harrison to slaughter his enemies. The fools that dared approach his Match were easily taken down. The light army tended to stay away from both Harrison and Voldemort, thinking it easier to bring down their army first.

Voldemort made his way through the battle to his Match. Harrison's wand in his pocket burned, almost yearning to go back to its master. He paused as he caught sight of an Asian woman with long black hair. She was fighting for the Order, her face set and determined…

He knew her.

A large smirk spread across his mouth as his crimson eyes narrowed in on his prey.

Cho Chang.

She was Harrison's first fuck. She was the reason Voldemort didn't get Harrison's virginity.

He couldn't touch Zabini because of Harrison, but he _never_ said anything about killing off Chang. Oh, this was going to be _fun_.

Keeping her in his sights, he continued toward his Match. He watched as Harrison whirled around, dispatching his opponent and his cloak twirling with the movement. The air around his Match smelt of blooming lilacs, drowning out the smell of blood. "Took you long enough," Harrison breathed deeply, flashing Voldemort a look. "You have it I hope?"

"Of course," Voldemort passed Harrison his wand, watching the corners of his mouth lift upward.

"We have a new ally; did you get a glimpse of him?" Voldemort didn't have to look far from Harrison, for Longbottom was almost breathing down his Match's neck. He sneered, eyes narrowing when he realized the boy wasn't a _boy_ but his Horcrux. That little… he would have to deal with his Horcrux at a later date. "Have fun with Cho, My Lord." Harry remarked smartly, eyes twinkling up at him.

"Little bastard," Voldemort hissed, turning his back on his Match.

The Asian witch widened her eyes as she watched him approach. Yet, her fear didn't last long as he sliced a long lesion in her back. It split open, her spine exposed. Delicious, just… delectable. She screamed; her eyes wide and her whites exposed. Around her, the Order twitched, their distraction costing them. With their hesitation and distraction, the Death Eaters struck quickly, taking them down.

Chang fell to the ground on her stomach. She was playing dead, but Voldemort wasn't a fool. He saw her tense shoulders and her fingers were trembling. "Now now," Voldemort cooed, his pulse quickening with excitement. This was almost as arousing as watching his Match fight on the battlefield. "It's in insult to me if you play submissive, my dear. And here I thought you were a Ravenclaw…"

Blood stained her grey robes, exciting him. This tramp… dared to stain his Match. "The day you touched Harrison Malfoy, was the day you signed your life away to me." With a flick of his wand, he flipped her body over, staring into her shocked eyes. "Let's see how pretty you look with your face split open." Chang scrambled for her wand, lying on the ground, but Voldemort was far quicker.

Slowly, he moved his wand toward her forehead, moving it downward at a painfully slow speed. The skin on her forehead rippled and a bloody line appeared down her forehead and toward the area between her eyes. Once it reached between her eyes, blood seeped in her eyes and fell down her cheeks in tears. "You look far more beautiful this way, my dear." Her eyes popped out of her sockets and her screams pierced through the fighting wizards.

Oh, such sweet melody.

He didn't even get to reach her nose before she fell limp, dead. Perhaps next time he should keep them alive until he was satisfied…

And then a scream, that wasn't so melodic, drew his attention. He snapped his attention toward Harrison, watching as the small body fell to the floor. Immediately, Death Eaters and magical creatures alike, circled him protectively.

Who _dared?_

Across from the group stood Rufus Scrimgeour.

Perhaps it was time to set his goals on something a little more challenging, albeit still sweet.

** -SSC- **

Sirius dodged a quick curse, giving off a shocked breath. Around him, he was slightly distracted that he was fighting off the enemies that once had been friends and acquaintances. Now they were fighting him as if it didn't bother them that he could be destroyed in their curses. And the light wasn't exactly using _light_ spells. They were using grey spells that could inflict damage easily. Such as the cutting hex, cutting any necks that came within their reach.

Sirius clenched his teeth, his fingers tight and sweaty on his wand. He owed Harry his best in this war. After everything his cousin had done for Remus and him… it was the _least_ he could to in fighting off his past friends. But he had to remind himself what they did to the werewolves. So brutal. So harsh. They were two-faced.

When James was alive, Sirius always enjoyed mock dueling with him. But this wasn't for play, this was for life.

A shrill laugh swept through the Atrium and Sirius was distracted with looking over at the Dark Lord. The man sent goose bumps down Sirius' back and the sight before his eyes didn't make things better.

Somehow the Dark Lord strung the Minister Rufus Scrimgeour in the air, stripping skin layer by layer. All the while, the crimson eyed man was cackling with delight. Sirius gagged, seeing the flesh from the infamous ex-Auror rain down to the fighters below. Near Lord Voldemort, Harry was limping, blood staining the floor below him. His cousin didn't show any outward pain, yet Sirius could see the tight tension around his mouth as he dueled fiercely.

Harry was a brilliant wizard. Sirius could feel the raw magic coming from the younger wizard and stared in awe as the boy plowed down any opponent who dared to approach him.

His distraction cost him his footing as a curse came whipping straight toward him. Someone pushed him to the floor, causing Sirius to flatten on the hard ground. The wood floor was warm, as if there were a volcano underneath the floorboards.

Startled, he looked up at his savior, only to see one of the vampire assassins. The vampire looked down at him with dark green eyes and a wicked glint in his stare. "Step up, brother. Show me those dueling skills I've heard so much of."

"Re-Regulus?" Sirius stuttered, his face surely paling considerably. His long dead younger brother. Yet, he wasn't… really dead. From what Sirius knew about the assassins from Harry, most of them were vampires. Hence the reasoning why the Black tapestry would declare Regulus as deceased. "You're alive."

"Not really," Regulus breathed in a chuckle. With black gloves, he picked Sirius up off the floor and thrust him toward the dueling wizards. The gesture was meaning enough. Regulus saved him, possibly his life. For whatever happened between them, for whatever grudge they held against each other, Regulus forgave him.

And that gave Sirius a strong will to continue fighting.

This time with a clear conscious.

** -SSC- **

Rufus Scrimgeour screamed and Blaise flinched, feeling a piece of the Minister's flesh drop on his shoulder. The Dark Lord Voldemort was rather sadistic right now as he hovered possessively over a wounded Harrison and torturing the hanging Minister… who resembled a shaved hippogriff. Merlin… that was disgusting.

Blaise looked away, toward Harrison. He slashed his way toward his friend, his desired lover, and Lord. He had never had a full out duel before, only mock play in Hogwarts classes. His mother taught him most of the things he knew, including dark arts.

An Auror stood in his way.

The Ministry official cast a stunner on him, assuming a Hogwarts student wouldn't be able to hold up himself against an Auror. Blaise smirked, dodging the stunner. _"Fleix Stron,"_ with eager eyes, he watched the officer attempt to block it nonchalantly, almost bored, but it went right through his shield. Fire erupted on the skin of the Auror, totally dismissing the clothes.

The man howled in pain, almost as pained as the Minister's above him. He pointed his wand toward his body, no doubt casting water toward the imaginary fire. And in that wand drop, Blaise cast the _Avada Kedavra._

The Auror went down heavily, no longer shuddering in pain.

He wasn't really big on torturing, not like the Dark Lord Voldemort. That… man was genius at torturing… sadistic. How he appealed to Harrison was a mystery to Blaise. He could not; no matter how hard he tried, seeing the Dark Lord Voldemort being gentle and not sadistic toward Harrison. It just didn't… conjure itself.

"N-," Scrimgeour gurgled, his hands lashing toward his army for one desperate gesture. _"Now!"_

Blaise paused as he heard audible breaths being taken, as if they were bracing themselves for something.

And then he knew what the Minister ordered in his last breath.

Killing.

The light side was killing now. Oh how the mighty had fallen.

It was amusing to see the Aurors sink so low and cast the killing curse. And the _Order…_ what would Dumbledore say if he saw such an act? He quickly dodged a killing curse, feeling it fling past his neck. Merlin, _that_ was close.

Shakily, he got up, clutching his wand. He never assumed a battle would be this intense, this cutthroat. He should have known.

He met Harrison's eyes and those brilliant green eyes locked with his own. Blaise would never forget such beauty… but then those eyes widened and Harrison's mouth opened wide, his wand quickly shooting a curse from somewhere behind him.

Blaise frowned, realizing what was happening. Somewhere, behind him, from his _back_ , his enemy attacked. The curse struck him, bringing him into a peaceful and eternal sleep. He never once lost the image of green eyes.

** -SSC- **

Draco grinned as he fought along side his father. They were having a contest of sorts, seeing how many enemies they could take down. So far, he had claimed ten lives. His father was ahead of him by eight. Draco hadn't seen Lucius this intent, this vicious. He heard stories that Lucius Malfoy was cold on the battlefield, striking fear in his opponents. But Draco never thought that Lucius could ever be that young and powerful Death Eater again.

He was proved wrong as he watched Lucius from the corner of his eye. His father was _vicious_ with his enemies, enjoying bloodshed. Draco wasn't as creative as his father was. He preferred to off the light wizards with _Avada Kedavra_. And that was it. Of course, if he had to defend himself, he would use other hexes and curses. But his last striking curse was the killing curse.

And then there was the other member of their family who probably destroyed double the number that Lucius and Draco had combined. Harrison was injured in his leg, but he didn't allow that to stop his dueling. His twin was stunningly twisted along side of the Dark Lord. It was a remarkable sight, something Draco was sure he wouldn't see again. He was proud of his twin for pushing past all his barriers and accomplishing the position he held today.

He would be a brilliant uncle as well. Draco knew Harrison would never have his own children, in fear he would be as terrible at parenting as his father and mother once had been. But Draco knew better. Harrison loved his mother and he was a Seer. He would treat children with the same love as Narcissa gave him.

" _Now!"_ The Minster gave his last shout and the army seemed to shift with his order. Draco faltered when killing curses started to be cast among the light wizards. Really? Playing fire with fire? Going against their _beliefs_? Their _morals?_ No matter, they were hesitant to be casting it, almost if they didn't want to be. And _that_ was something Draco could play with. It was their weakness.

Blood splattered on his face as Lucius cut his enemies' chest open. It was an ugly sight and Draco turned away, sneering at the Unspeakable across from him. Only, the Unspeakable was standing differently from the others. This smaller form held himself powerfully and didn't hold a wand, but a dagger. And Draco blinked, knowing he was facing an assassin.

Little did he know that he was facing Akira, the Head of Assassins.

He crouched, feeling his pulse raise as the vampire sprinted toward him. And with the vampire speed, Draco could hardly see the form approach him. But his twin warned him of the vampires. With a heated gasp, he cast a heavy shield, a shield that would hold against any person and magical creature.

The vampire sprinted up the shield, his feet a blur. Draco began to sweat as he tried to defend himself against the curses that were coming inside his shield. It didn't hold against curses, just bodies, specifically vampires. An _Avada Kedavra_ burned past his ear, causing him to shout in pain. It didn't touch him, but the proximity was close enough to burn.

All the while, the vampire was taunting him, sprinting in a blur around his shield and _on_ his shield. Draco couldn't hold his shield for very long and he was a sitting duck, trying to hold his concentration on the shield but having enemies close in on him.

Lucius was a ways away, too far gone in his lust for revenge. He didn't notice Draco's dilemma. "Bastard," Draco sneered at the vampire, his teeth clutching together. "You bloody fucking vampire." He trembled, his magic exhausted. He wasn't going down without a fight.

He dropped the shield, dodging away from another killing curse. The vampire was on him like a month on flame. But Draco drew a circle of fire around himself, closing himself inside a room of flames. Sweat appeared on his brow and the vampire hadn't dared to come through. The fire wouldn't touch him, it was his own magic. Hesitantly, he moved his wand toward the flames, making a small hole for his eyes to see on the other side.

He leaned forward, peering through his hole. He felt pathetic that he was hiding like this, but vampires were a pain in the arse to get rid of. From his position, he couldn't see any blurs, any vampire circling the fire pit.

Could he trust his instincts to know the vampire had left, bored? Could he-,

"Oh," Draco breathed, feeling something wedge painfully in his back. The pressure was horrible… the _pain_ was horrible. He sunk to his knees, feeling the fire around him slowly die out. A dagger.

A dagger was lodged deeply into his back, cutting off his breath.

He hoped the dagger was halfway as beautiful as the one Harrison owned. How he would hate to be killed by a common and hideous looking dagger.

There was poison with the dagger as well. Draco blinked, everything swirling in front of him. He knew his time would come; he just was never prepared for a painful death. His magic tried to fight against the poison and pain, but he was already so exhausted trying to hold up the shield.

He caught his father's eye across the battlefield. The man's mouth was agape and his face was pained as he looked at Draco.

_ Don't pity me father… _

Draco slumped to the ground, keeping his gaze on his father. Lucius, seemingly understanding Draco's mental thought, closed his mouth and gave a deep nod toward his son. His eyes weren't cold… instead they spoke the words Draco wanted to hear one last time.

_ I love you son. _

He closed his eyes, giving one last struggling breath. His only regret in life was not being there for his child and not treating Harrison better. Hopefully a part of him could live on through his child… and Harrison could know how much he loved him.

** -SSC- **

Keiran slashed his dagger across an exposed stomach, killing the wizard in a matter of seconds. For humans, they had trouble seeing vampires moving about, to them, they were only blurs. Keiran wiped the bloody dagger on the side of his robes, eyeing Akira. The Assassin Head was taking down multiple of Death Eaters without hesitation. He was causing a disruptive dent in the numbers of dark wizards.

But there was one death he saw that caused Keiran to pause in his own killings. Akira had killed Draco Malfoy, twin to Harrison Malfoy.

As the blonde struggled through his last breath, Keiran turned toward Harrison, knowing that the boy felt his twin's death. His one eye watched the small wizard tense and then quickly turned toward the space he had previously seen Draco fighting.

Green eyes widened and then watered. Such emotional pain… Keiran could even say he felt the pain.

His apprentice clenched his jaw and turned his icy stare on him. "Kill that bastard," Harrison whispered, but Keiran could hear it perfectly.

He bowed his waist toward the boy, feeling a rush at Harrison's spoken words. He would be more than _pleased_ to take care of Akira. With that vengeful thought in mind, he snapped into a lunging mode, sprinting toward the Head of Assassins. He wasn't the Hand for nothing. He was the best dueler among assassins, even Akira seemed somewhat wary of him. Yet the Head always had a trick up his sleeve, an underhanded trick.

Akira saw him approaching and turned to meet his attack.

The two collided in mid air, both of them moving too fast for the humans to see. Yet the other assassins seemed to hesitate and watch the outcome of their new Head or death of their Hand.

Keiran dropped gracefully to the floor, his dagger still clutched easily in his grip. "You will not win," Akira sneered, his dark eyes flashing.

"And you will not expose us to the wizarding world." Keiran shot back, a grin upon his lips. Fighting with emotion… thanks to Harrison's Seer, he felt emotions now. And for the life of him, he didn't seem to mind it. Emotionless versus emotional. Who would win? He was anxious to find out.

Akira was a far distanced fighter while Keiran liked to fight close ranged. He would try his hardest to pressure Akira into close distance, the vampire would feel insecure. Thrashing out with his dagger, he caught Akira around the wrist. The Head hissed, baring his fangs. Killing vampires were seemingly impossible for mortals. But for vampires to kill vampires, it was not unheard of and not impossible.

Akira lunged, catching Keiran around the legs. He fell to the ground, grimacing as the dagger entered his rib cage. The poison on the blade would not harm him as it would humans, yet it did cause a slight slowness.

With his leg, he slammed his foot on the back of Akira's head, enjoying the slight crack he heard. The vampire stumbled, his grip on the dagger in Keiran's ribcage slipping. Thrusting it from his body, Keiran flung it expertly through the air, imbedding it in Akira's thigh. The vampire hissed again, his eyes cold as he stared at Keiran. With cold fingers, Keiran touched the dagger wound to his ribcage and felt it slowly closing.

As he was standing, ready to take advantage of Akira's wounded self, he froze as he watched the Head throw something looking strangely like a red gumball. It was a wizard's tool, perhaps an Unspeakable's project. He was far too late to move with Akira's quick throw and he watched in shock as the ball turned into a large fire comet. Dodging would be worthless, as would running.

And then someone jumped in front of him, embracing the comet for him.

Keiran stared in wonder as Regulus Black fell to the ground, taking the hit for him. Seeing his ex-apprentice, he felt _something_ well up inside his stomach. The need for revenge was strong, but there was also sadness.

He was still getting used to these emotions, but he knew he cared too deeply for Regulus to allow Akira to win.

With a raging hiss, Keiran charged at a wounded Akira. He pounced on top the Head of Assassins and slashed his fangs across the exposed neck. Akira attempted to fight off Keiran, but with his raging emotions, he had too much determination to kill Akira first.

He tore a large piece of vampire flesh from the neck, spitting it out in disgust. If it were anyone else, he wouldn't mind eating it. But this was Akira.

Looking down at the faltering and wounded Head, Keiran chuckled, his fangs out. "You were so wrong… so wrong on many things." And he raised his fist, enjoying Akira's widening eyes. Bringing his fist down, he crushed Akira's skull. The head rolled to the side at an awkward angle, killing the vampire instantly. No mortal could _ever_ accomplish what he had just done.

Staring down at his old Master, Keiran slowly stood up, afraid to look behind him at the burning corpse of Regulus. But he owed it to the vampire to do just that.

Turning, he stared at Harrison. The boy was over Regulus' body, the flames out. With a hand he was holding his cousin's charred head up, speaking softly to the man.

** -SSC- **

"Thank you," Regulus coughed out, his skin looking horrible. Harry tried not to dwell to long on the image, just glad he was able to save Regulus if he couldn't save Blaise and Draco.

"I'm sending you back to the camp out. We have Healers there, they'll heal you." But there was chance Regulus wouldn't make it. Vampire's were rather sensitive to fire and Regulus was burned badly.

"How about you?" Regulus groaned out, looking toward the deep gash on Harry's leg.

"No more speaking," Harry scolded, ignoring his own pain in his leg. He was far too engaged in the battle to stop and heal himself.

Keiran slowly approached; his eyes intensely on Regulus. Harry paused for a moment, feeling the concern from his Master. The vampire had more emotion today than he ever did during Harry's training. He supposed his Seer had something to do with it, yet… looking closely at Keiran, Harry wondered if it was _someone_ else who had caused such emotion in the vampire. "He's alive." Keiran breathed, eyeing his fallen comrade. "Thank you." He looked at Harry. "Thank you for saving him." His single eye then looked at Regulus. "And thank you for saving me."

Regulus coughed, trying to laugh. "I just hope I can get back my own handsome looks…"

Harry's lips thinned disapprovingly down at Regulus. He had seen the man guard over Sirius, making sure his brother stayed safe. Why hadn't Harry followed Regulus' example and watched over Draco? He _knew_ Draco was in danger, why didn't he keep a look out? He felt guilty… he should never have left his brother alone. He had a child on the way.

"Harrison," Keiran cautioned, looking above Harry's shoulder.

Feeling something tighten in his chest, Harry turned around, staring in disbelief as the Mimes surrounded only Voldemort. They had been rather inactive during the battle, but now they were literally crawling over the Dark Lord. He looked as if he was having trouble throwing them all off with his magic and even the Death Eaters around him weren't succeeding.

Things weren't going right…

"Keep an eye on Regulus," Harry breathed, scrambling up. His magic had yet to be exhausted and his wand was a good reason why he wasn't magically exhausted. He pointed it at the Mimes, wiping out a good handful with a blast of magic.

This was where Voldemort was going to die. He just knew it…

Harry lunged forward, feeling his pulse quicken. A part of him knew this had to happen, in order to kill off Dumbledore. But another part of him was frightened of the outcome. Would he succeed in saving Voldemort or would he fail? Dueling Dumbledore wasn't exactly his strong suit.

He entered the maze of Mimes making his way toward his lover. Voldemort looked as though he wasn't having any trouble, yet his eyes were crazy and bright, looking as if he were slowly on the road to insanity and exhaustion.

Harry split the Mime in front of him in half, watching as the bloodless body collapsed to the ground. "Tom-," Harry called out, warning him of the Auror behind him. The Aurors were closing in as well… it was a mess and they were all out for Tom.

But Voldemort already had his eyes on Harry. The crimson eyes slit into snake pupils and he lunged toward Harry, taking him by the shoulders. With a shocked gasp, Harry was turned rather suddenly, still in the Dark Lord's arms. The _Avada Kedavra_ from the Auror swept past them and Harry grew dizzy with the abrupt turns Voldemort was moving him in. Around them, daggers flew and curses flew.

And then it seemed to stop.

Mimes grew still, their painted faces smiling.

And Harry was struggling to hold the lifeless body of Lord Voldemort.


	37. Beat me to the Ground

** Chapter Thirty Seven: Beat me to the Ground **

Voldemort struggled to regain consciousness. He's done this process before. Once his body died, he would travel to the _Inter Universitas_ , the plane between the living and dead. Once he reached the plane, his spirit would pause before entering the plane of dead and become attracted back to the plane of living because of his Horcruxes. They would pull his spirit back to the nearest Horcrux before he could cross into the death plane.

But this was… not right.

His eyes opened and instead of looking down at the battle through the eyes of a wandering spirit, he was in a body. A rather familiar and small body.

Looking down, he blinked at his small body that looked oddly like he was eleven again. His teeth snapped together in a hiss and he surveyed his surroundings. The air was light, yet difficult to breathe in. Around him, there wasn't a body or soul in sight. It was empty, it was desolate. He was leaning against a stone pillar, looking at the brilliant red train. The train was still, smoking slightly from under the track.

He was in the _Inter Universitas._ Somehow, he was stuck between worlds.

Fear and panic sunk in his chest as he struggled to sit up. He was always confident that his Horcruxes were anchored to the land, but what if they were all destroyed? What if they were destroyed without his knowledge? But that was impossible; he would have been destroyed entirely when that _Avada Kedavra_ struck his body. He would have been in the land of dead now if that were the case. Not here. Not in between worlds.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at the train, unsure of his next step. His magic was gone. He was a weak and vulnerable child once again. Would he be destined to stay in the _Inter Universitas_ his entire existence? No… he would find a way out.

"Dumbledore," Voldemort whispered childishly as he watched a form slowly make its way off the train. Almost if he were waiting for him. "I should have known you were the cause of this. You couldn't just stay dead, could you?"

The old fool gave a grim smile toward Tom. "I'm afraid I have planned this far before I died. I have been waiting here since my death, waiting to guard over your soul. You won't be able to go back to the wizarding world, Tom. Not as long as I'm here."

Tom glowered, but he remained silent. He had to hand it to the old fool. It was a brilliant trick.

"You choose to sacrifice your own happiness to watch over me here? In this land of nothingness?" Voldemort contemplated. "I would think you were eager to join your dead sister in the other plane, no?"

Dumbledore's face twisted slightly, his lips thinning for just a moment at the mention of his sister. "If it means the wizarding world will be absent of your presence, than I am ready to sacrifice myself to stop your spirit from going back in the land of living."

Voldemort chuckled softly, his voice coming out in childish laughs. "And you honestly think Harrison won't continue on with the battle? With winning the wizarding world? He's my Match, he shares the same ideas as myself."

The old fool calmly sat down on the stairs leading up to the train, his face oddly calm and composed. "As much as you think Harrison follows directly in your footsteps, I disagree. Harrison is his own person. He is not as sadistic or vicious as you are, Tom. I suppose, if I had to choose between who would lead, I would pick Harrison. You are far too cruel for the innocent men and women of the world."

Voldemort just grinned. The old fool knew nothing of his Match.

But then Dumbledore sighed, his face twisting into remorse. "Alas, Harrison is a Seer and will cross over to save you." Voldemort perked up at this, his small body struggling in this plane. Dumbledore caught Voldemort's interest and gave a grim smile. "Seer are able to cross over to this plane, to this land between worlds. The good thing is, whatever the end result is, I win."

"What are you speaking of, Dumbledore?" Voldemort sneered, although it didn't come out as threateningly as he wanted it to.

"If Harrison indeed releases you from this plane successfully, I am able to destroy his soul. And in doing so, once you are back in the land of living, you will become insane, not able to live without your Match. And then there is the possibility that he doesn't come. And you will stay here for eternity. I win either way." Dumbledore gave a smile, his eyes twinkling.

"Ah," Tom's high voice gave a scoff. "You forgot about one other option, Albus."

White eyebrows rose. "And what is that Tom?"

Voldemort growled softly. "You forgot the possibility that Harrison saves the both of us and escapes your… rather irritating clutches. He can destroy you."

Instead of smiling, as Voldemort thought the old fool would, the man looked rather bleak. "I suppose that can be an option. But I find it rather impossible." Blue eyes looked at Tom over his glasses. "I hope that Harrison stays away from this plane. I'm afraid no matter the outcome; he will be unable to leave this plane. If he kills me, he will be stuck here. If I kill him, he will have the fortunate outcome of cross the worlds into the land of dead. Perhaps then, he could see his mother."

"You make no sense, fool." Voldemort hissed.

Dumbledore nodded toward the far wall. Tom hesitantly turned toward the gesture, only to see a door that he hadn't noticed before. It shimmered with Dumbledore's magic, looking sealed and forever closed. "That can only be opened with magic."

Tom glared at the door.

"Because you are not truly dead and because Harry would not be truly dead if he arrives, he won't be able to use his magic. Simply because his magical core is still in his living body. He cannot bring his magic here. But _I_ on the other hand, am dead. I have my magic with me. It's rather a pity that it has to turn out this way."

Tom stared at Dumbledore. "You make _no_ sense." He repeated angrily. "You said earlier that he could release me."

"He can," Dumbledore agreed.

Red eyes narrowed dangerously. "Then how can he release me if he can't open the door? If _both_ of us can't open the door?"

" _You_ do not have to go through the door. If I am killed, or rather, forced by Harrison's hand into the land of dead, then you are released. Your spirit is tied with mine. I have to stay here in order to keep you here. If I leave this plane, I can no longer hold you here." Dumbledore gave a grim smile. "Harrison on the other hand, has to enter and exit through that door. He will be forever locked in here. Granted, he can enter through the door, but never exit."

Voldemort seethed. "He doesn't even know this is happening."

"Oh he does, Tom. You underestimate him. He's Seen this in his visions. He knows what to do."

Tom looked away from the old fool and toward the door again. If Harrison were to come through that door, he could never leave. Not unless he had magic to open the door, but that was impossible in this plane. He wouldn't have his magical core with him. Dumbledore, on the other hand, had his magic. It was rather hard to believe that Harrison could destroy Dumbledore without magic. And even if he did destroy the old fool, forcing him to the land of death, Harrison could never be released from this place.

And Tom _would be_ able toescape if Dumbledore were forced into the land of dead. But he would die without his Match. Over and over until all his Horcruxes were used up.

And then there was the other possibility. If Harrison were killed by Dumbledore. His Match would die, entering the land of death. And Tom's outcome would be the same. He would either stay here, with Dumbledore for eternity, or Dumbledore would be sadistic and make him die over and over again until he was out of Horcruxes.

Either way, Tom would be stuck here, or die.

He hoped that Harrison wouldn't even bother to come through that door. At least then, his Match would have a chance at life.

** -SSC- **

"You did it," Harry rasped, staring at Octavio. The Lord of Mimes stared back at Harry and Voldemort's vanishing form. Harry felt the body become lighter and lighter until he was holding only robes and ashes. Of course it was normal, for Voldemort had other Horcruxes here. Yet, he knew Voldemort would be stuck between worlds, never able to escape without Harry's aid. "You killed him." Harry spoke toward the Death Demon.

"I did. But I was aiming for you." The wand in his hand was pointed downward. "Yet he saved you. Rather… unsuspecting."

"Why?" Harry spat, the Mimes around him still. They blocked the way for Aurors and Unspeakables alike. "I saved you. I… I thought you'd heal from your hate." He thought long and hard about the incident with Octavio after clearing out the 'Seeds'. The Death Demon even _looked_ semi normal, if not a little thin. But here was Octavio, his revenge still the forefront of his mind. Yet… the man still looked bored, as if he didn't want to be here.

"I have no choice, Harrison." Octavio murmured. "I was assigned a Master."

Harry's eyes widened. Death Demons were magical demons who were able to grant a Master's wishe. Once the Death Demon agreed with their Master on the single task, they were magically bound until they completed it.

"Dumbledore." Harry breathed, feeling his temper rise.

"Yes," Octavio looked upward, his brilliant blue eyes dull. "I've been working for him ever since I came in your life. It was him that made me kidnap your father. When I first agreed to serve him for this task, I didn't think twice. You were a Seer, my greatest enemy. Alas, you turned out to be different then all of them. But I couldn't back down from his task. I was bound until both you and Voldemort died… or I."

The Death Demon looked horrible and Harry felt a brief sting of regret. Octavio was a twisted individual who was played for a fool in his childhood. His mother killed herself because of a Seer and his father turned violent on Octavio once the Seer did his damage with the Seeds. Harry had tried his best to cure Octavio of his past shadows and traumatized events. But he was still held in the grasp of Dumbledore's task.

"Merlin," Harry breathed.

"I will make this a fair fight." Octavio looked back down toward Harry, dark circles under his eyes. "My Mimes will not attack you. Perhaps… perhaps maybe you can kill me first." He wasn't thinking Harry could kill him; he _wanted_ Harry to kill him… in order to end the task. "Before we duel, I want to thank you for what you did for me, Harrison. You are allowing me to rest peacefully now."

Harry shook his head, knowing that Octavio already risked so much by staying away thus long. When a Death Demon was assigned a task by a Master, they were expected to complete that task. The longer they waited the more pain they were in. Physical and mental pain. They could never kill themselves, or stop their attempt at finishing the task until they or their prey were killed. How much pain was Octavio going through at the moment because of Dumbledore's hold?

And Harry's Seer saw exactly what Octavio was feeling. Not only was he hurt by the magical bond between Dumbledore's task and himself, he was also devastated at what he had to accomplish.

This man killed Voldemort, his Match. Yet Harry was having trouble with the thought of killing off such a scarred individual.

"I do not fear death, my sweet Seer." Octavio murmured. "After all, I am a Death Demon."

"I-,"

" _Avada Kedavra,"_ a voice spoke from behind Octavio, bringing him down. All his Mimes stilled and collapsed to the ground, their Master's strings cut with his death. Harry blinked, seeing Pythia Zabini standing tall, her wand out.

"You amaze me, Harrison. You are the Dark Lord's Match, yet you tend to have a light heart." Pythia no longer had a strong air about her. Instead, she seemed deflated. Her son…

Harry looked away, catching sight of the battle. A large number of their allies seemed to be down, yet the light side was suffering just as much. "Let's say we finish this war, my Mistress." Harry murmured. "And then you can assist me with rescuing the Dark Lord."

Pythia gave a small bow. "What do you have in mind, My Lord?"

Harry hesitated, staring at the wounded. "We have focused our Seer on our opponents. But what if you and I together focused on the entire light army?" Pythia gave a grin, holding out her hand toward Harry.

Without a thought, Harry gripped the hand, joining their fingers together. He gave her a reassuring squeeze, letting her know he was here, aware of her emotional pain of losing a son. He knew the feeling. He had lost a best friend, a lover, a brother, and a mother. He knew what loss was and he grieved for her. But she didn't show her emotion. Harry couldn't exactly feel it either. It was if she had known her son would die.

Knowing Pythia, Harry wouldn't put it past her.

"Fear? Sadness?"

"Fear," Harry breathed, blinking slowly at the light wizards.

"I do fear well," Pythia agreed, taking a deep breath to compose herself. And then her eyes lightened and her posture straightened. Harry felt her Seer reach out and enclose around her enemies. Harry took it as his own signal and followed her in her footsteps. It was easier than directing happy thoughts toward the dementors. He was sure, if he had to fend off dementors again right now, he wouldn't be able to do so.

Instead, he was focusing on all his own fear and giving it tenfold to his enemies.

The light wizards seemed to stumble with the onslaught of Seer emotion. Their faces crumbled and their limbs shook with the feeling of fear. The Death Eaters all seemed to pause, unable to understand what was so horrifying.

" _Fight,"_ Harry roared, green eyes glowing. "Slaughter them!"

And because Harry looked a frightening sight, the Death Eaters pushed past their uncertainties and cut down a large amount of light wizards. Sweat beaded on Harry's brow as he struggled to keep his Seer in grasp when everything was falling down around him. Pythia didn't seem to have any trouble, her face clear of sweat and strain. Together, they succeeded in bringing down their enemies. They had no chance. Their fear was so high, their ability to fight and concentrate were nonexistence.

_ This _ was the reason why Seer were meant to be neutral.

Eventually, there were hardly a three dozen light wizards standing. "Kill them all." Harry snapped, dropping Pythia's hand and making his way over toward the survivors. They trembled and dropped to their knees, pleading with Harry to spare them.

The floor was full of dead bodies of every creature. Harry refused to look down, afraid he would see more of his friends dead. "My Lord?" A Death Eater inquired, motioning toward the kneeling light wizards. "Spare them or…"

Harry blinked at the few dozens of wizards and then down toward the ground. There, a few feet away, laid Draco. Blood soaked his robes from the dagger wound to his back. Eyes hardening, Harry looked up at the Death Eaters. "Kill them."

He glided through the Atrium, watching nonchalantly as all the uninjured dark wizards and creatures went to their knees. They bowed their heads toward Harry, staying impossibly still until Harry deemed it necessary to stand. "You have all fought well." He looked at no one, his mind seemingly in the clouds. His body was sore, yet he knew he had one last fight to accomplish. "It will take another few weeks, maybe months to alter this wizarding world to our liking. But we have won. And we have succeeded."

Harry paused, looking down at the slack and dead face of Severus Snape. He swallowed and then turned toward Neville Longbottom. Riddle was looking out through Neville's eyes, his stare intense. "All of you should rest and recover. I want a good few of you who are able to stay here, to stay guard. The rest of you should take the wounded back to the camp. You are dismissed."

He turned away and motioned for Riddle and Pythia to follow him. Riddle took his precious time, a wide grin on his face. Harry ignored it until he exited through a dark hallway. He stopped, not very far from the Atrium. "Lose your grin." Harry snapped at Riddle. "You can never be him."

"And why not?" Riddle stepped closer to him.

"Simply because you have _Longbottom's_ magic. Useless. You are a tiny fraction of Voldemort's soul. You could never come close to being him."

Riddle shrugged. "I know." Harry blinked. "He's the master soul. He _needs_ to enter one of his Horcruxes. But that doesn't mean he can't use me as his next Horcrux. He gets a part of me and in return, I get you."

"As if you'd remember any of this when he molds in with you." Riddle just grinned at him eerily. Harry ignored the Horcrux and turned toward Pythia. "I want to try to save him."

"Save him?" Riddle interrupted. "What are you speaking of?"

Green eyes flashed in his direction. "Dumbledore's soul has taken over the job of holding Voldemort's soul in the _Inter Universitas_. He can't leave when Dumbledore is standing guard." Riddle looked slightly shocked, his crimson eyes wide. "Because I'm a Seer, I can transfer myself in between worlds and rescue him."

"How are you going to do that without any magic?" Riddle shot back. "You're not dead, thus you can't take your magical core with you."

"He has other means," Pythia spoke up, reaching over and touching Harrison's dagger at his belt. Riddle snorted, rolling his eyes upward. He didn't think Harry could destroy Dumbledore without magic. Harry didn't need to be a mind reader to know that. Pythia ignored the Horcrux as well and grabbed Harry's wrist, tugging him downward.

Harry complied, watching as Pythia calmly sat on the ground cross legged and moved Harry's head on her lap. "Relax," Pythia whispered, stroking Harry's temples and hair. He allowed his body to lye on the ground and his head rest on Pythia. "You need to seek your Self out, Harrison. He can show you the way to _Inter Universitas_." She bent down to kiss his forehead.

Harry glanced one last time as Riddle, seeing the Horcrux looking down at them with a veiled expression. He closed his eyes, trying his hardest to concentrate. The smell of death was strong in the Ministry and if he focused enough, he could smell the burning flesh coming from the level below. The evidence that pointed toward his murder of the Giants. Pushing all the death aside, Harry slowly relaxed with the help of Pythia's soothing waves.

Rather quickly, he found himself no longer in his body, but back at his meditating place, standing across from Self.

"You seek the _Inter Universitas_." Self whispered knowingly, eyeing Harrison's dagger in his hold.

"Yes. And you can bring me there."

"I can," Self looked forlorn. "But you _will_ discover death there." Harry took a deep breath. "Is this what you really want? You do realize the consequences of each outcome, don't you? Is death worth it if your Match will perish anyway?"

Harry remained silent. His fingers caressed his dagger and his eyes were at his feet. "I do know the consequences." But Self said he would discover death there… would he die in attempt to save Tom? It didn't matter. "I have to try." He said out loud. "I have to try to save him as he did for me."

Self's green eyes were glowing bright as they studied Harry closely. "Even if you will discover death?"

"Yes," Harry replied firmly.

Self held out a hand. Without hesitation, Harry placed his own inside the identical hand and allowed Self to pull him away from time and space. He closed his eyes, unable to keep them open with the quickness they were traveling with. Before he could comprehend it, they had stopped. His feet were on solid ground and he blinked open his eyes. In front of him, there was a door.

"You just need to go through the door." Self said sadly.

"That's Dumbledore's magic," Harry remarked as he smelt the familiar aura. "I… what is it doing there?"

"Would you _like_ to know how it will turn out?" Self questioned. Harry remained silent, both of them already knowing the answer to that question. "Then you need to enter through that door without question."

"You don't approve of what I'm doing." Harry turned to look at his Self's face. The mirror image just gave a forbidding smile.

"If this is what your heart tells you to do, then you must complete this challenge." Self slowly disappeared. "Good luck, Harrison." And with that, the mirror image vanished.

Harry took a deep breath, facing the door once again. Through that door sat Tom, a child version of his Match. And there was also a half dead Dumbledore that refused to leave. This would be the last of the old man if Harry succeeded. _If._ There were too many chances in life, too many regrets and loss.

Surging forward, he opened the door to Kings Cross. Immediately his eyes landed on a forlorn Tom Riddle. His crimson eyes were locked with Harry, almost in a wistful expression. "Don't shut the-," Tom started, but the door shut behind Harry.

Voldemort gave a light sigh, his face gray. "You shouldn't have come, my love." The conversation wasn't going the way his vision had gone. He supposed the situation always altered with every small change.

"You know I would." Harry responded back, looking around the still train station. "What's holding you here?"

Crimson eyes closed in exasperation. "Dumbledore. He's around here somewhere, lurking about. When he dies, or crosses over to the land of death, I am able to go back to the land of living. Back into a Horcrux." Voldemort's voice sounded strain. "Did we win?"

"We won," Harry agreed, his body tense.

Voldemort, with his eyes still closed, gave a small smile. "I knew you would succeed, my love." Crimson eyes slit open. "But you shouldn't have come here." Voldemort looked torn. He was wearing the most expression Harry had ever seen him with.

"Why? You-,"

"Because you are unable to leave." Dumbledore came striding from the train. "That door you entered will not allow you to leave without magic." Tom, in the body of an eleven year old, looked like a pouting child as he glowered at Dumbledore. "You see, Tom's soul is attached to mine. If I leave this plane, he is allowed to leave. He does not have to go through that door. You, on the other hand, Harrison, have no way out. No matter the outcome."

Harry grinned, backing away slightly as Dumbledore approached. "So… what?" Harry drawled. "You think I should beg you to kill me so I don't have to stay here for eternity?" His pulse was quick and heavy at the realization of Dumbledore's words. He was stuck here. Forever. Even if he forced Dumbledore to the land of death, Tom would die eventually because Harry wasn't near him. It all seemed worthless now.

He turned to look at the child face of Tom Riddle. The boy was adorable and rather cute. The only thing telling Harry this was _his_ Voldemort were the wise crimson eyes looking back at him. No… no… this _wasn't_ worthless. He was doing it for Tom, he would fight for Tom.

"I'm thinking you would agree with me that would be the best option. I cannot kill Tom because he has Horcruxes back in the wizarding world, but you, I can kill you to make things easier."

Harry considered this. "If I allow you to kill me… would you go with me and allow Tom back into the land of living?"

Dumbledore chuckled, looking at Harry as if he were slow. "Of course I will, my boy. But he will just die without you-,"

"Perhaps not," Harry drawled, leaning against a pillar. "Matches aren't very common. Who knows if the research is true that if one dies, the other immediately follows? Tom is a rather emotionless wizard; he could easily get by without his other half."

The old man frowned, looking as if he were going to snap shortly. "The hard way, or the easy way, Harrison?" Dumbledore pointed his wand at Harry.

"Why, I think that's an insult." Harry crouched down low, all his training from Keiran coming back to him fluidly. "What Malfoy ever does things the easy way?" And then Dumbledore attacked. The pillar right above Harry's head exploded, sending rocks and rubble across the floor. Harry had rolled out just in time, his body quick on his feet.

This was going to be difficult, he had to admit. Dumbledore was a powerful wizard, yet he wasn't very underhanded.

Tom hissed from his position against the opposite pillar, glaring daggers at Dumbledore. Harry dodged another curse, feeling it whiz past his hair. His leg was still wounded, casing pain to shoot up his hip. But he pushed through it, pretending he was in perfect health.

He slid across the floor toward Dumbledore, twisting his body in a flip as the old fool cast another curse at him. It destroyed the floor where he was once sliding. He got on his haunches, lunging at the man. His dagger caught a large piece of flesh in the old man's side, but his victory didn't last long. Dumbledore gave a shocked gasp, throwing a heavy dose of magic toward Harry.

And he was cheating gravity as he flew through the air.

His grip was still on his dagger as he landed heavily against a stone wall, sliding down. Blood warmed the back of his head with the harsh collision against the wall. Looking up from the floor, he saw a crimson trail following his descending form. He gave a groan, his head thundering. Lying on the ground, face down on the powdery substance from the wall, he breathed in and out, focusing himself.

"Harrison," Tom called out, sounding pathetically like a child who had lost his mother.

Giving a jolt, Harry looked up to watch through slit eyes as Dumbledore approached. Tom was standing up, his legs shaking, but his crimson eyes flashing with hate. Harry slumped against the floor as Dumbledore approached even closer. Lie low… lie low… be Slytherin. Be _Voldemort._

His fingers made a show of trembling and his head fell back down to the floor. "It's a rather unfair fight, but you knew that before coming here." Dumbledore then looked between Tom and Harry. "Such love… who knew the great Lord Voldemort would experience such a thing with a sixteen year old boy?" Dumbledore looked rather saddened. "It's a pity you had to turn out just like him." He raised his wand, a deep frown on his face.

Tom screamed, his fists curled at his sides and throwing a childish tantrum. Harry tried to hide his grin at that, but failed. Dumbledore was going to kill him. But he had no intention to lay here. "You're right, Dumbledore." Harry breathed, watching the wand raise toward his fallen form. "I _am_ like Voldemort."

And with quickness that Dumbledore wouldn't expect, Harry swiped his legs and hit the back of Dumbledore's knees. The old man went down heavily and Harry lunged for Dumbledore's wand hand, successfully slicing it off at the wrist. The appendage went flying and blood squirted. It was a gruesome sight but Harry didn't bother to stand and savor it. Instead, he went for the killing stab to the chest.

But Dumbledore wasn't done. He thrust his handless arm toward Harry, throwing a block of magic toward him.

Harry gave a startled yelp as he went flying yet again. This time, he was heading toward the train. With gritted teeth, his hands landed on the train's roof and flipped his body over gracefully before he could crush into the side of the train. His feet quickly ran across the roof of the train and dropped own on the other side of the station. He was between the wall and the train, Dumbledore and Voldemort on the other side of the tracks. They couldn't see him and he took that moment to become stealthy. A specialty Keiran taught him while he was training.

"You're hiding now, Harrison?" Dumbledore breathed, his breath coming out in heavy gasps at the pain he must be going through. Harry ignored the man and slid downward, under the train and on the tracks. It was a small space, probably impossible for anyone else to be crawling down there. Steam also veiled his sights, but he knew where he was heading.

A small distance away from where he last crawled, the train seemed to come down on the track. If he had been there, it would have crushed him. "Bastard," he heard Tom throw a fit. "You bloody bastard."

Harry grinned as he crawled over the tracks, scraping his back on the train's belly. His dagger was still crushed in his fist, stained with Dumbledore's blood.

He was nearing the end of the station, his pit stop. Slowly and quietly, he slid from out of the train and peeked up over the edge of the platform. Dumbledore stood tall, his eyes uncertainly on the fallen train. Tom, on the other hand, stared straight at him. Harry quickly crawled out of the tracks and hid behind a pillar. His breathing was silent and his feet were soundless. Giving a quick glance, he inched closer to the Headmaster from behind.

Tom, eyeing Harry, slowly turned his back on his approaching form and advanced near Dumbledore. "Is he dead?" Voldemort spoke with a harsh quality. "Did you kill him?" Voldemort then continued forward toward the train, drawing Dumbledore's attention with him and away from Harry's form.

And it was Harry's chance to pounce.

With a wicked smirk, Harry drew closer, his dagger fisted loosely, expertly.

His calm fingers reached out to tap Dumbledore on the shoulder. The man turned around sharply, only to slice his throat on Harry's dagger. A kill.

Blue eyes widened and he dropped to the floor at Harry's feet. "This time, stay dead." Harry rasped. Dumbledore's form disappeared, no doubt heading toward the land of dead.

Harry slumped to the ground, his dagger a slippery weapon of blood. Tom crawled up toward him, his small body maneuvering and seemingly becoming cloudy. "I'm not leaving you," Voldemort growled. He crawled up on Harry's lap and encircled his arms around his neck. The Dark Lord buried his face in Harry's neck, nuzzling him… his customary gesture after they made love.

"You need to leave," Harry said dully. "I… I know you are able to live without me. Your soul is split so much."

Voldemort pulled away, a deep frown on his face. "You fool, I'm not leaving you." He leaned forward and kissed Harry's jaw. It was odd… having a small boy on his lap… kissing him. If it were any other time, Harry would have pulled away in disgust. Instead, he tightened his sore arms around Tom, squeezing him close.

"You're already disappearing," Harry pointed out sadly. "Your Horcruxes are drawing you back to land." He blinked back desperate tears. He would be here alone… forever. Unless… "I can kill myself." Harry pointed out. "I can't stay here forever, I'll slit my throat like I did-,"

Small fingers grasped his jaw. "You will not," crimson eyes burned into his gaze. "You will not. I will find a way to get you back here."

** -SSC- **

Pythia gave a deep sigh, opening her eyes. Her fingers were still caressing Harrison's temples. Slowly, she looked up at Neville Longbottom. "You need to kill me."

Longbottom blinked his crimson eyes and then narrowed them. "Excuse me?" The Horcrux hissed.

"I will not harm your Match, I am helping him." Pythia looked straight at the Horcrux, her chin up. "Kill me and I will help him."

The Horcrux slowly took out his wand. Without much regret, he shot an _Avada Kedavra_ at her.

** -SSC- **

Harry and Voldemort were staring at each other, waiting for the moment in which Tom was pulled fully away from him. "I will find a way." He spoke again. Harry just grinned at him, fingering his dagger.

"Take care of my niece or nephew, Tom. And my father. He'll be alone."

Voldemort grimaced at the prospect of looking after a child and a grown adult. "You will be there to do it yourself, love." His voice was becoming grainy, and his form was slowly losing its visible features. He attempted to grab Harry's hand, but it slipped right through. The Dark Lord hissed lowly, eyes flashing.

"You better hurry and leave the plane." A voice stated behind Harry.

Quickly turning, Harry opened his mouth in question when he saw Pythia Zabini standing near the open door. "Pythia?" Harry questioned uncertainly. She was dressed in a beautiful gown, her hair flowing down her back. She had a wide smile on her face as she motioned Harry toward the door. "How?" He paused, feeling himself start to tear up. "You… you died? Did he kill-,"

"No, Harrison." Pythia shook her head. "I asked him to kill me. I've Seen this outcome; I knew it was my time."

"But you said Seer never see their deaths." Harry stumbled up, Tom staying on the ground. "How did you know?"

"I didn't See my death, only your outcome. You would have been abandoned here. Your Match would have gone insane." Pythia breathed lightly. "I knew I had to save you, Harrison. I once told you that I do not fear death. And I don't. I get to be with my son once again." Harry stopped before her, feeling her warm presence. He didn't stop the tear that slid down his cheek. "Don't cry my student." Pythia smiled sadly, reaching out a hand to stroke his cheek.

"You were like a mother to me," he whispered hoarsely.

Pythia smiled once more, opening her arms to burry Harry inside her embrace. "And you were like a son to me, Harrison. That is why I sacrificed myself for your happiness." Harry buried his head on her shoulder, tightening his own hold on her. "You were a brilliant student for me, Harrison. And you gave my son the friendship he's always craved. Please accept my gift to you."

Harry pulled away slightly, looking into her brilliant blue eyes. "Thank you," he whispered.

Pythia smiled gratefully and leaned down to kiss his cheek. "I hope you will teach the young Seer who approach you. You will be a good teacher, a good leader, and a good lover." Her hand caressed his unruly hair. "And last, but certainly not least, you will be a loving uncle. Your brother loved you deeply." Harry nodded, too choked do say anything intelligent. "Go through the door, Harrison. Your life has just started."

Their hands clasped and Pythia brought up and kissed Harry's knuckles. "Will you be waiting for me on the other side?" Harry questioned.

"Of course I will be." Pythia smiled. "I love you my son."

Her form vanished.

Harry stared at the vacant spot, feeling lighter, yet far sadder than he ever had before. Turning to look over his shoulder, he eyed the now spotless Kings Cross and the empty spot in which Tom had sat at. The door was still open, a warming light pooling out from it.

Giving a deep breath, he stepped through the doorway.

** -SSC- **

Harry gave a sharp twitch, waking up. He was back on the floor of the Ministry, the Atrium visible down the hallway. Pythia's corpse was lying peacefully on the ground near his head, her face split in a genuine smile. He would give her a royal burial, along with her son and Draco.

"You're awake," a voice hissed out.

Harry sat up slowly, turning to stare at the form crouching near him. It was no longer Longbottom, no longer Riddle, but a new face of Lord Voldemort. He looked younger than he had previously, about late twenties. He no longer had long hair, but short and neat. He looked nothing like Neville and everything like a young Tom Riddle.

Harry grabbed the Dark Lord's face and gave him a sloppy kiss. The man growled lowly into the kiss, pushing Harry back down on the ground. "It's you?" Harry asked breathlessly, staring up at crimson eyes. "Everything?"

"Everything," Voldemort smirked, amused. "It's me. Just… appearing a few years younger." He smiled softly down at Harry. "You did a brilliant job with Dumbledore up there. Who knew the Light Lord could be defeated by a muggle weapon?"

Harry took a deep breath, feeling at ease. "Don't underestimate assassins, Tom."

The man grimaced, leaning down to kiss him yet again. Pulling back crimson eyes searched him. A long and pale hand laid itself on Harry's cheek. "Are you ready to alter the wizarding world to our liking, love?"

Harry smiled, reaching out his hand and enclosing it in Voldemort's.

"More than ready."

** Epilogue **

The waiting room was silent. Harry laid his back gracefully against the wall next to the Dark Lord Voldemort and smirked over at the others waiting. Sirius was tapping his fingers against his knee, looking everywhere but at the door. Remus was trying his best to not allow Sirius' fidgeting to bother him, but moments later; he snapped his fingers around Sirius', stopping the tapping.

"Does this make me his cousin three times removed?" Sirius grounded out, breaking the silence.

"Who said it was a 'he'?" Regulus insisted. The vampire's skin was angrily scarred from the fire, but his green eyes were back to their mischievous selves. "I suppose we are getting rather old, aren't we, brother?" Sirius threw the vampire a look.

"You don't bloody _age_."

Harry gave a small grin as he watched Keiran slowly move his hand down Regulus' arm to entwine their fingers. The two were a couple, shocking Harry senseless when he found out. It didn't really surprise him, but it surprised him that the two assassins would act on their feelings after years of being emotionless. Nonetheless, he was ecstatic that they were together. Keiran's feelings for Harry seemed rather null when around Regulus.

"You're going back to the Assassins Guild tomorrow?" Harry insisted toward his Master. Ever since the battle, seven months ago, the assassins had stayed close, helping both Harry and Voldemort organize their new society. It was very helpful and they still remained in the shadows, unnoticed by the people of the wizarding world. The werewolves, mostly Fenrir's close pack members, took over a good portion of forest in the lower half of Britain. The other werewolves, who decided to remain in society, were given the same rights every wizard held. There was no discrimination, no prejudice.

Muggles were out. All of them. There were never any muggle involvements with the wizarding world. Halfbloods and muggleborns were closely monitored in what they revealed to their muggle parents. Those parents were sworn to secrecy, their mouths unable to voice the wizard's secret to anyone.

The Ministry was run mainly by Lucius Malfoy, who was currently sitting near the end of the waiting chairs. Lord Voldemort chose to stay away from paperwork and be an active force around the wizarding Britain. He always dragged Harry along with him, never seemingly separated. Not that Harry complained. He was Voldemort's logical mind. The man had a temper that could easily ruin their carefully crafted society and Harry was there to cool it with his Seer… or… a rump in the bed.

And the best thing about their new society… the dark arts were legal. Granted, the Unforgivables were illegal to cast in Hogwarts and on people, but they were allowed to be cast. There was no longer a split between dark and light wizards. They were who they were having no discrimination.

"We are," Keiran nodded sharply. "But we will be visiting from time to time. Regulus and I just need to focus on reconstructing the Guild. There will be no Akira's men dirtying up the society."

Voldemort gave a sniff, almost bored with everything. _"When will this cease? How long does it take to give birth to a little devil spawn?"_

Harry raised his eyebrow at his Match, sneering lightly. _"The devils spawn? That's my niece or nephew you_ are _speaking of."_

Voldemort didn't look ashamed, instead, he was amused. _"My point exactly."_

Harry glowered. _"No sex for you tonight."_

" _It was your night to ride anyway."_ Voldemort hissed in laughter. _"Tomorrow night is my night to thrust you into the mattress. By all means, let's skip tonight."_ Harry threw the man a look, eyeing the silver ring on the man's finger. It had an onyx jewel in the middle. It was meant to be Harry's wedding band, yet Voldemort wore it on his left index finger right above his own wedding band.

Harry grinned softly, fingering the Slytherin locket around his neck. He wore Voldemort's Horcrux. And Voldemort was wearing Harry's. His wedding ring, a symbolic gesture when Voldemort presented it to him, was turned into his Horcrux. That didn't mean Harry was ringless. No, Voldemort was far too possessive to have Harry ringless. He wore a simple silver band instead.

"You're a grandfather today, father." Harry spoke up, startling the other visitors. "How do you feel about that?"

Silver eyes crinkled at the corners as he gave Harry a small grin. Their relationship was rocky in the beginning, but it was more than natural now. "Like Black said. I feel old."

"You don't look it, father." And Lucius didn't. He was still timeless. Although he had a few dark shadows in his eyes, Lucius looked just as prim and proper as he had ten years ago. Harry was positive Narcissa would be the same; more beautiful as the years went on.

"Master?" A young boy questioned from down the corridor. "Will we be meeting today?"

They were all standing in Voldemort's and Harrison's manor. In the door behind them, Pansy Malfoy was giving birth to Draco's child. Only the best Healer was in the room with her, making sure there were no failures.

Harry pushed off from the wall, giving a contemplative glance toward his student. The boy was a few years younger than himself with bright gold eyes. A Seer mark stained his cheek, looking almost full-fledged. "No, but I do expect you to keep _meditatin_ g." The boy, Alexander, gave a sheepish smile, bowing quickly at the waist and running back toward the main entrance way.

Giving a small grin at his pupil, Harry went back to leaning against the wall. It was his second Seer student. They were incredibly rare, but Harry's name had been spread around the continent as a decent Seer and teacher. Harry followed Pythia's footsteps when it came to teaching new students. Be firm, yet conceding at the same time.

Crimson eyes held his stare, obsessively drinking him in. No words were needed between the two.

And then a baby's cry broke the silence.

And then another.

Lucius and Harry locked eyes and both spoke at the same moment. "Twins." Lucius looked rather pale while Harry grinned excitingly. It was rare, twins. And it was even rarer that Malfoy's had twins. It _was_ rather ironic that Draco's wife had twins… almost if his brother was watching over them all.

Harry slowly entered the room, eyeing Pansy Malfoy upon the bed. She was glowing, yet looking exhausted. "Is everything alright? How are you doing?" Harry questioned both Pansy and the Healer. He watched as the Healer wrapped the twins up in one blue blanket and one pink blanket. A girl and a boy…

"More than fine, Harrison." Pansy smiled softly, her hair damp and her face red. "Please… welcome Cissa Pansy and Abraxas Draco." Harry gave a bitter smile as he heard the female's name. His hands reached for the female and cradled her to his chest. Brilliant silver hair… a beautiful girl to carry Narcissa's name. She blinked up at him, revealing brilliant green eyes. He faltered, staring down at her. She slowly closed her eyes once again, sleeping.

A Seer. Another Seer in the family.

Before he could think more deeply into the subject, Abraxas Draco was placed in his opposite arm. The boy was adorable with dark hair, possibly from Harry, possibly from Pansy. Yet, Abraxas had silver eyes. The baby looked remarkably like Draco… it was if his brother were peeking up at him.

"They're both beautiful." Harry whispered, looking up at a smiling Pansy. "Just beautiful."

"Thank you, Harrison." Pansy spoke tiredly, yet gratefully. Harry grinned at his father, motioning for him to take the twins. The man still looked as if he had seen a ghost as he accepted the children, yet a small smile appeared on his face. Hopefully with his grandchildren, he can be the father he always wanted to be.

The other Black men and Lupin and Keiran came in the room, leaving Voldemort to glower in the doorway, bored. Harry smiled at his lover, making his way over. "Don't seem to excited to see your niece and nephew." Crimson eyes twitched at the title. Harry chuckled lowly, grabbing the Dark Lord's collar and bringing him down for a kiss.

Voldemort hisses softly, tugging Harry out the room and into the abandoned hallway. His long arms wrapped around Harry, pulling him close. "Remember that day you were kidnapped and taken into custody at the Ministry?" Voldemort insisted softly.

Harry thought back to the war, specifically the incident Voldemort was hinting at. "Yes, why?"

"You told me something mentally before cutting me out of your head. It was a confession of sorts… what did you say again?" Voldemort pressured, staring at Harry.

The smaller wizard flushed lightly, knowing exactly what he had said to Voldemort through their link. He flashed the man a suspicious look. "I said I love you."

Voldemort hummed, leaning down to kiss Harry on the lips. "Right back at you, love." It was his way of confessing his love. Perhaps not entirely romantic, but the most romantic Harry would hear from him. He smiled into the kiss, tightening his hold on his Match. The kiss grew deeper and Voldemort bit through Harry's bottom lip. "Did you really mean what you said about no sex tonight?" The Dark Lord inquired, a deep frown marring his face.

Harry tipped back his head and laughed, taking Voldemort's hand in his own. He tugged the man down the hallway.

"Let's settle that craving, old man."

**_ End. _ **


End file.
